The Sword and the Bow
by ChiaraStorm
Summary: Four woads have a great destiny to fufill. This is their story. Author's Note added.
1. A Girl of Power

This is my first fanfic, so I really need reviews! I hope you like this, as it took me ages to write and I'm only on page 15. A few things first,

I can't remember all of the quotes from the film, so it won't all be accurate. I've tried to make it as close as I can, but correct me if it's not.

I own **nothing**. Get it? Nothing. Nada. All I own is Aibhilín and a few other characters that I can't tell you about yet (hehehe)

My story starts off a little like 'The Sister of Guinevere', which is a brilliant story written by Stahlfan125. I promise you, it goes in a very different direction, but again, I'm trying not to spoil the plot.

I will try to update as often as possible, but if I don't it's because I am very, very busy, or very, very lazy. I'm taking 11 ½ GCSE's next year, and it's only going to get worse.

And with those thoughts in mind, I hope that you enjoy this.

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm

**Chapter I: A Girl**

"I am bowing my head  
In the eye of the Mother who gave me birth,  
In the eye of the Maiden who loves me,  
In the eye of the Crone who guides me in wisdom,  
In friendship and affection.  
Through thy gift of nature, O Goddess,  
Bestow upon us fullness in our need.  
Love towards the Lady,  
The affection of the Lady,  
The laughter of the Lady,  
The wisdom of the Lady,  
The passion of the Lady,  
The blessing of the Lady,  
And the magic of the Lady  
To do in the world of Abred,

As the Ageless Ones do in Gwynfyd;

Each shade and light,

Each day and night,

Each moment in kindness,

Grant us Thy Sight"

The ancient, wizened old man bowed his head devoutly as he finished his chant, and lifted his arms up to the sky, raising the cone of power. All of the tribe surrounding him-four score or so-knelt and made their magick.

The old man released the elements and deities, and stood up as tall as he could. The girls sitting by him were almost identical, black hair, pale skin and strong stature, but one had brown eyes and the other had green. The green-eyed one was Aibhilín, the older daughter, and the brown-eyed one was Guinevere. They were both wearing floaty robes that seemed ill-suited to the night chill, but they were Woads. They were built for the cold of the night, and it was more natural to them than the daylight sun. Both of them were listening intently to their father, Merlin, also called Dauídh as a mark of respect.

"The power of the Woads has always been in their homeland. This land. The rugged, cold, windswept coastline of Briton has ancient power and protection. The Woads have embraced this land, listening to it, working with it and replenishing it"

"But we have no power now!" Someone cried. "The Romans took all of that away!" He spat venomously on the ground.

"But we possess a power they cannot" Merlin said calmly. "The power of the ancients. It was them who built the standing stone and the wooden ring. The Romans do not know how to use that"

"What will change?" Someone asked. "The Romans will not give us our land back"

"Maybe not" Merlin agreed. "But there is a man, a man whose name is on every Roman's lips. The leader of the Sarmatian knights, Arthur"

"Arthur!" The man who had spoken first scoffed. "You mean Artorius! He is a Roman! He fights for Rome!"

"He fights because they tell him to. He may be willing to help us"

"Why?"

"Because his mother was a Briton. He has roots here, whether he admits it or not"

"He will not realise that" someone said levelly. That girl was Ealusaid, a rational woman of fifteen, a truly dangerous fighter. It had always been rumoured that Merlin was her natural father as she mirrored him in many ways. This had never been confirmed or denied by Dauídh. "He cannot stop being a Roman"

One man stood up and shouted. "How will he even meet us anyway? He has never come north of the wall!"

"True, so I have a plan" Merlin stood up tall-well tall for a stooped old man. "I intend to send a small group to the wall. You have all heard the rumours of Saxon invasion?"

A chorus of ayes hit his ears like water breaking on rock.

He continued. "Well, who else will Bishop Jermanicus send to defend the Roman families here? If a small group of us wait there, they can find Arthur"

There was a silence. "And do what?" The speaker was Leofwen, who was considered by many to be young and impulsive, but was wise and often delved deeper and more profoundly than she or anyone else thought.

"Direct him to the sacred forests of Maol Dúin. There, I will meet with him-unescorted".

There was a collective gasp. "Dauídh, this is madness. He could run you through as easily as blink". Leofwen cried.

Merlin smiled. "Leofwen, you, Rossa, "gáin, Ealusaid and Mór will go to the wall". Aibhilín smiled as she saw Leofwen's pleasure at being made a member of the scout group. The girls had always been firm friends, eating, fighting and working alongside each other. It was widely considered that the four girls-Aibhilín, Guinevere, Leofwen and Ealusaid-were a formidable fighting force, and would one day carry on the Woad fighting spirit.

Merlin took full advantage of the distraction. "I have to say that Arthur will be a worthy ally of the Woads and that we will one day be able to drive the Romans from our lands"

A spate of talking broke out, and Merlin held his hand up for silence. "I grow weary of all your chatter. Sleep. We will talk more tomorrow".

As the tribe moved away to sleep, he held back his two daughters. When the tribe was out of hearing range, he sat them down on the dewy grass. The moonlight was strong, and they could see every line and wrinkle in his face.

"My daughters" he began. "No matter what happens, you must stay strong. Your destiny lies beyond suffering and pain. You have the power to change all of our destinies. It is because of this that you must go"

The girls nodded. They had long accepted that their father would tell them strange things, and they had long accepted that was the truth. Many believed that Merlin had the sight, and what he saw was true. If he said they must leave, leave they must.

"Leave at dawn's light, and head south, towards the wall. And remember, your life is like the light. It goes down, but you have a duty, and with that duty comes the light. Do not be afraid, but accept it"

His daughters nodded and knelt for his blessing. He gave it freely, and they went to sleep under the stars, not knowing what tomorrow would bring.

* * *

What do you think? Please hit the little button on the bottom-left corner of the screen. That little button makes me very happy...

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm


	2. Pagan Punishment

Thank you for my reviews

WarAdmiral-LOL. My duty is then done! It is my job to make you all curious...

Camreyn-No, no changes in names. The four girls are Aibhilín, Guinevere, Ealusaid and Leofwen. "gáin, Rossa and Mór are just side-line characters. As this chapter illustrates, they get split up, and later will meet up again...I wrote this all together, so it might be a bit confusing. Sorry about that. It gets clearer in coming chapters, I promise! (I wouldn't be a writer if I gave everything away in the first thousand words, would I?)

OK, please keep reading! Critical reviews make me happy as well as praising ones, so please ask me about anything. You can say anything; even if it's in Italian (I speak a bit of that actually!).

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm

**Chapter II: Pagan Punishment**

"Aibhilín daughter of Dauídh-"

"Aibhilín inghean Dauídh" The girl corrected him quietly in the Celtic tongue which the Romans hated vehemently. The Romans had no idea that Dauídh was also the name for Merlin, for which she was glad.

Marcus Honorius scowled at her, shivering even though it was late summer, and it was still warm. "Why do you insist on practising your pagan ways? Do you not understand that the way of Christ is the only way?"

Aibhilín stood there in front of her lord. He insisted on all of the serfs in his villa to pray as Christians and recognise him as a man of the Church. Aibhilín had rebelled heavily against this, keeping the old ways of the wise ones alive. Unlike the others, she had not been born here.

She was born in a storm on the last day of the tenth month, or the pagan festival of Samhain, in a forest above the wall. She had loved in no village but merely the forest and nature. She had learnt to listen to the forest's calling, and work magick with it. She had learnt to swing a sword, fire a bow and ride a horse. She was powerful, very powerful. She was such an expert fighter that not even the men of her old tribe challenged her. She was untouched and untouchable.

She and Guinevere had travelled south, trying to get over the wall (the limit of Pict territory), but had often been beset by Picts or Romans whilst getting there. One such attack had led them to being taken here, nothing more than serfs for the Romans. The injustice of it-Aibhilín and Guinevere, daughters of the great Merlin were working for Romans-made her blood boil every single day and every time she saw Marcus Honorius's flabby face.

Aibhilín spoke in a controlled tone. "Because it's not my way"

Honorius struck her across the face. "You are a serf! You are born into this. You will believe what I tell you to believe!"

Out of habit, Aibhilín twisted and struck him back, catching him on his fat neck. She kicked out with her foot, but it twisted in his toga, and in that moment he wrenched her arm, over-balancing her. He stood over her, and pushed her back down as she tried to get up.

"Pig!" She spat out at him defiantly. For that she received a split lip.

"You are my slave!" he roared at her, his spit flying as he enunciated each word. From her vantage point on the floor, Aibhilín could see Guinevere standing at the window, looking on, protecting her as only a sister can. She ran from the window.

Honorius grabbed Aibhilín and ran his cruel hard finger down her face, softly at first, then tightening around her throat. "You are far too insolent for a serf"

"And you are too insolent to a child of Merlin and of the clan Mich Uidhir" came a strong voice from behind him. Marcus wheeled around to get kicked by Guinevere. He dropped Aibhilín and she sank to the ground. Guinevere tackled the man, but he was a lot heavier than her, and he used that to its full advantage.

Protecting her sister, Aibhilín stood up and struck him on the back of his neck, where he was vulnerable. If she had had a little more strength, it would have knocked him out but as it happened, she only distracted him. Guinevere wriggled out from underneath him, and kicked him in the face, her sister kicking his legs so that he collapsed to the floor.

"Guards!" he managed to choke out, Guinevere's foot meeting his mouth just a second too late. Two armoured guards entered the room, but the two sisters managed to jump straight out of the window that Guinevere entered by. The sisters ran over the villa grounds and sprinted towards the serf village, which would be safety. They were headed for the perimeters, Guinevere almost dragging Aibhilín, who was still struggling for breath.

Out of the corner of her eye, Guinevere saw that guards were chasing them (making a lot of noise, she heard), thus alerting the Roman household to their chase. Even Alecto, Honorius's son. He looked vaguely amused.

The girls made to slip out of one of the little-used side gates, but one of the guards was quicker than the rest. He made a wild lunge and tripped up Guinevere with her trailing belt. She tripped and Aibhilín went down with her. As they got up, they found themselves in a ring of swords. Marcus Honorius and his wife Valnoria walked over; his face angry and puce, hers compassionate.

"So" he began imperiously. "Not only do you defy me, but you attack me. Barbarians! Pagans!" he began to insult them, and Aibhilín would have punched him if her arm wouldn't have been cut off for doing so.

"We have a special place for pagans, don't we?" he said, and his guards grinned evilly. They suddenly grabbed the girls and dragged them out of the gate and to a building attached to the inner wall. They knocked and it was opened from the inside. A ragged priest opened the door, and his eyes glittered when he saw the girls. "More heathens?" he asked. The guards nodded and pushed them into the dank hole. Guinevere slipped on the wet steps, but Aibhilín caught her by wrenching her arms free. The guard slapped her and took them down the stairs.

The cavern was full of cells, and from the smell they were full of decaying people. Guinevere felt the bile rise up in her throat as the stench entered her nostrils, while Aibhilín felt like she would pass out.

The priest opened one cell and pushed Aibhilín in, shackling her ankle to the wall. He put Guinevere in the one next to it and repeated the process. The guards left without saying anything, and the priest began a long prayer in Latin, which neither girl understood. Guinevere leaned against the wall and massaged her foot, which was shackled too tightly to the wall. She knew that if she didn't keep the circulation moving, she would lose her foot. She had seen some cases of this in the snows at winter. When the feet were left in the cold for too long, they turned, then blue, then purple and finally white. That foot could never move again.

She dozed in and out sleep, woken only by the smell and the crying of other prisoners. Her huntress instinct told her that there was something more here than just imprisoning people. Something else must be going on.

"Aibhilín?" she whispered into the air, not knowing if her sister would hear her. "Aibhilín, are you there?"

The priest banged his censer on the door, causing the smoke to mingle with the smell of blood and death so violently that Guinevere gagged involuntarily. "No talking!" he muttered violently. He gave an evil laugh. "You'll want to shut your ears now"

He moved along and Guinevere heard the distinct grating of a cell door. She heard Aibhilín give a little gasp of surprise as her manacles were snapped open and she was roughly dragged out of the cell. Guinevere caught a glimpse of her pale moonlight face. Guinevere watched as her sister was torn out of sight and swallowed up by the darkness.

Aibhilín kept that image of her sister in her head. She was not naïve by any means, and she knew that she could be going forever. However, this was unlikely. She had only been in the cell for about half a day, and they would not kill her so soon. They would do something worse to her first.

Aibhilín suddenly found herself in a room filled with instruments, mainly wood, but some with sharp metal points. Her stomach turned over. She knew what was going to happen to her here.

"Lie down" the priest ordered in a soft voice that was filled with the promise of danger.

Aibhilín stood there for as long as she dared, and then very slowly lowered herself to the bench. The priest leaned over her, his foul breath rank and ripe.

"Do you repent of your pagan ways, and embrace Christ?"

Aibhilín did not reply. The priest waited, but suddenly he wrenched her index finger around unnaturally. She did not scream but let out a slow long hiss.

"You must repent now, or suffer in the eternal fires of hell" The priest told her calmly, as if he had not just crippled her.

Aibhilín compressed her lips defiantly. The priest wrenched her bow fingers and thumbs, slashed her wrists with a knife, inserted red-hot pins under the largest nails on her feet, and stretched her bones on a rack. The machines were excruciatingly painful and by the end of it all she was screeching Guinevere's name mentally, praying that her sister could hear her. The priest stopped asking her whether she would renounce her faith and just tortured her with a bloodthirsty lust.

Still she only let a hiss escape through her lips, which was only a raindrop on her ocean of pain. Finally she fainted, and went to a realm where she could feel nothing.

Guinevere waited on the brink of her wooden seat, letting her head droop backwards against the wall, but jerking it up every time she was on the brink of sleep. She tried to look out for her sister's return, but the torches had long since burned out, and her eyes could not adjust to total darkness. She was drifting back to sleep again, her neck exposing itself to an enemy's blade. It was a symbol of how exhausted she was that she would forget her warrior side.

_Guinevere, sister!_ Aibhilín's voice echoed through her mind, urgently and painfully. Guinevere could feel the red hot pins in her sister's feet and the blood dripping down her wrists. The worst one was the feel of her sisters thumb brushing against her wrist. Guinevere's hand instinctively travelled down to her own hand to check that her thumb was normally attached to her hand. At first Guinevere wondered whether some ancient magick had made this connection, but soon she saw the dim shape of her sister being dragged down the corridor. By the light of the priest's torch, she saw her sister, covered in blood and reeking of sweat. She looked exhausted, and weakened, but what she saw in her sister's face was strength. If her sister could be a warrior, so could she. She saluted her sister with an imaginary bow, and she saw Aibhilín give a wan little smile in return.

The priest came to her cell, and she stood straight-backed and proud. As she was led away, Aibhilín gave her sister the traditional answer to the bow salute, as she saluted and sheathed an imaginary sword.

Aibhilín woke up to the suffocating smell of death. The first thing she thought of was why she was still alive. She couldn't even walk because of the pins that had swollen her feet and she had had the tattoos on her arms and legs scarped off. It hadn't worked, and the little skin she had left was still blue dyed, but also splashed with red sticky blood.

She lay against the wall, trying to sleep, as it was the only thing she could do that was painless. When she was awake, her stomach growled insistently and her throat screamed for food and drink. She had tried to talk to Guinevere, but her throat was too raw, and she could barely croak. The only way she had of telling the time was by when her torture started and stopped. That was the only way she had of telling the days apart.

She leaned back against the wall and let a single solitary tear drip down her cheek. She had no illusions about what was coming. She was going to die in this hellhole. As she drifted into a fevered sleep, she heard her father's words.

_Your life is like the light. It goes down, but you have a duty, and with that duty comes the light. Do not be afraid, but accept it_

Aibhilín jerked herself out of her uneasy sleep. This was only the night. The sun would be up soon. She clutched to that thought as a drowning man clutches at a rope. The dawn would arrive soon. She believed that.

Aibhilín was lurched out of her pain-wracked slumber by the sharp ringing of an axe. It was a sound that she had not heard in months, not since her capture and imprisonment. She craned her neck to see out of the cell, even though that meant that her ankle was dangerously white, and the chain was biting into her flesh. Of course, she wasn't feeling anything in that ankle any more.

"Who dares enter the temple of Marcus Honorius?" the priest said angrily, and Aibhilín strained her body to hear better.

"I do" A deep, masculine said, full of confidence and power rang throughout the cave. The priest gave a shocked cry and the sound of clinking armour and footsteps on the stairs. They were heavier than the silent, barely-there footsteps of the priests, and they moved in a way that would have been disrespectful for the priests. Aibhilín felt a small bubble of excitement build up in her chest.

"Check the cells" the confident voice came again.

There was a pause. "This one's dead"

"By the smell of it they are all dead" came another voice.

There was the usual scraping of the grill, and a shout. "There's a child in here! Bors, help me get the lad out"

Aibhilín caught a glimpse of them now. Two men, dressed as knights were pulling a boy out of the hole. Aibhilín knew him to be Lucan, a boy who was thrown in here along with his mother for breaking the Roman laws. Her heart leapt to know that he was alive, if not well. "You need not fear me" one of the knights said kindly. Lucan visibly relaxed. She tried to call out, to alert them to her presence, but her throat was dry and disused.

Suddenly a face appeared outside her cell, and she jumped in surprise. "Arthur! There's another!" Another knight walked over, and they pulled away the cell door. The knight who had found her first raised his sword and cut through her chains with a single blow of his sword. Aibhilín flinched as the metal sparks flew out, too bright for her dimmed eyes. The other knight put his arms around her and carried her out off her cell. He seemed to have seen that she would be unable to walk, and tactfully averted his eyes. It was only then that she realised the awful tattered state of the rags she was wearing. She closed her eyes to avoid theirs, and an image flashed into her mind.

She started to struggle at the strong arms of the knight holding her. In response, he only tightened his grip and kept moving up the dank stairs.

"Do not struggle" the other knight murmured to her. "We are taking you to your freedom"

He did not have to say 'and to ours', but his eyes said it for him. He stared at Aibhilín's face for a moment, and then turned away from her. Aibhilín continued to struggle, but suddenly she screeched as the daylight hit her eyes. After nearly two lunar cycles without natural light, to have it flooding her eyes was incredibly painful. She covered her eyes with her hands, and sobbed slightly into her hands. The knights lay her down in the snow, wrapped in someone's cloak with the hood shielding her eyes. She slowly removed her hands, and removed the hood. It was very painful, but she could bear it.

"Water, bring me water!"

"She's a Woad" someone whispered, but Aibhilín was in too much pain to care.

"Stop this! What are you doing?" From the courtyard came the loud and fuming voice of Marcus Honorius.

"What is this madness?" the leader asked.

Honorius looked at him like he was insane "They are pagans-"

"So are we" said the dark, curly haired knight.

"These people must be punished! They refused to do the tasks God set them"

"For refusing to be your serfs!" the lead knight yelled back at him.

Honorius looked confused. "You!" he said, pointing at him. "Artorius, you understand. You are Christian. This is your way"

"It is not my way" Arthur said. His voice was low and seething was rage, yet Aibhilín felt safe with him. He seemed a man who it was safe to put your trust into.

The other knight who had rescued her held out a waterskin to her. Aibhilín drank greedily, but choked a little as the water touched her scaly, dry throat. He leant her forward and helped her. "Can you speak?" he whispered.

"Y-Yes" she said, failing the first time, but her voice growing stronger. She clutched at his arm. "My sister" she said, without stumbling. "She's still in there"

He stood up. "Tristan! Gawain! There's someone still in there" Two of the other knights stood up and ventured into the prison with the dark knight.

Aibhilín sat up, barely able to, and feeling like she might faint, but she would do it for Guinevere. She looked at Honorius and Arthur talking. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but it was nothing good. Arthur drew his sword, and Aibhilín fervently hoped that he wouldn't kill him. She wanted to hold a bow with Guinevere and let the two of them drive it into his heart.

Then, she suddenly heard drums. At first she thought that it was just her, but the other knights were looking around apprehensively. Saxons was the word on everybody's lips. Aibhilín wondered about what had changed since she was imprisoned.

The knight called Tristan emerged from the prison. Aibhilín sat up expectantly, but her hopes were all dashed when she saw Gawain and her rescuer carrying a body like a limp rag doll.

She stood up, regardless of the pain in her feet, and started to hobble over to where they placed her sister's body. She fell a bowlength or two away, and crawled over in the snow. "Guinevere" she sobbed, tears blinding her eyes, not the sun now. She pulled her sisters long, tangled hair away from her face, even though her dislocated fingers could do little, and they hurt most painfully. She smoothed her sister's contorted face and tried to cover up the worst of her sister's injuries. For the first time she could see the full extent of their torture. They both had dislocated fingers, stretched muscles, infected swollen feet and holes in their backs from sharp metal spikes being driven into them and raw arms and legs. Aibhilín had twisted toenails and Guinevere had long burns on her back. Aibhilín sobbed harder over her sister's pain in life, but there was also relief. At least she was free of her pain now.

* * *

I am cruel...actually I'm not. You all know what happens. She can't die, it completely screws up my plot! I'm heartless, aren't I...?

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm


	3. Trust

Again, thank you for all my lovely reviews!

**Camreyn**-OK, the next two girls will appear in the fifth chapter and maybe one of them in the fourth, I haven't decided yet.

**Chiefhow**-Yeah, I am the girl with the iron stomach! The torture aspect was the thing I actually had fun writing...I like being cruel to my characters (and my sibling). Congratulations on your Rebekah of the Woads fic, it's really good. Originally, in mine, there were only three charactars, but I changed it so it didn't end up like yours. I didn't feel like I wanted to follow your story!

**ElvenStar5**-Thanks! I hope that you like this chapter as well.

**slightly-psychotic**-I'll write in more romance as we go along, and hopefully, a bit more action. I prefer that to romance really, but it didn't work any other way.

**Le Fay**-Thanks! You think that this is the best one you've read so far based on two chapters? Damn, I'm good... (joke!)

**WarAdmiral**-Well, I have a few more surprises up my sleeve...

I have about 20 pages of this stuff, equal to about 9,300 words, but I'm a little behind, so be patient with me. I'll try to stick to schedule (every other day, at least) but

You know the process; read and review. If you have any ideas about where you want this to go, please put them in your review, and I'll try and add them in.

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm

**Chapter III: Trust**

The knights stood by respectfully, watching the Woad woman sob. Suddenly, the hawk sitting on the leather glove of the braided man flew away and landed on Aibhilín's shoulder. She felt the feel of its talons through the ragged fabric of her robe, but it was a good feeling. It was good to feel things other than pain.

The hawk then flew over near to Guinevere's body. It looked at her quizzically through its small, amber coloured eyes, and for a moment Aibhilín felt comforted by its presence. The bird then landed on Guinevere's stiff pale face, and scratched her with its talon, leaving a vivid red mark on her cheek. The knight made to come forward and collect his bird, but before he reached there Guinevere drew in a deep, shuddering breath.

"Bloody hell" one of the knights swore.

Aibhilín gasped in disbelief, and started crying again-but this time from happiness. She clumsily picked up the waterskin and quenched her sister's thirst. Guinevere drank, nearly collapsing with the effort. Every breath was laboured, but she was not stopping, if anything, she was getting stronger. "Sister" she breathed.

Aibhilín put her arms around Guinevere again tightly, as if to stop her going away from her again. Guinevere gave a small, repressed shriek as she started to open her eyes to the sunlight. Aibhilín placed a cool hand over them, shielding them carefully.

"Let her breathe" one of the knights said, placing a gentle hand on Aibhilín's shoulder. He sat her down and placed a hand on Guinevere's forehead. "No fever" he murmured. One of the other knights turned to Aibhilín.

"I am Galahad; this is Tristan, Lancelot and Bors. The one with the boy is Dagonet and the one with your sister is Gawain" one of the knights introduced everyone. He did not need to introduce Arthur. "Who are you?"

"We are Guinevere and Aibhilín" Aibhilín said, motioning towards her sick sister and then herself.

"You are not from around here" Tristan said softly.

"No" Aibhilín replied guardedly. She had been taught as a child that knowledge is power. Give a potential enemy any information about you and they can use it against you. If she had not been asked, she would not have even told them her name. She could see herself getting forced into giving up information, so she changed the subject. "What is that noise?"

"Saxons" Lancelot said. He was the other knight who had pulled her out of the dungeon. "They are close. We must be going soon"

"My sister cannot ride, and-" Aibhilín touched her foot tenderly. "-neither can I"

"You and your sister can ride in the wagon" Aibhilín bit her tongue, as usually she would have argued such a point. However, she was in no state to walk. She started to struggle to her feet, and Lancelot picked her up. She settled into his arms comfortably, feeling the rings of his armour beneath her tattered shift. He carried her silently to the wagon, and gently put her down on a pile of rags. It was then that she still realised that she was still wearing the cloak. She meant to ask Lancelot whose it was, but then Galahad brought Guinevere into the wagon. Aibhilín forgot and fussed over her sister, making sure that she was comfortable. Finally, she fell back against the pallet of rags and slept as soon as her eyes closed.

Aibhilín woke up to pain, more pain. For a nostalgic second, she felt that the last day had been a dream, and she was back in her cell. She expected to see what she saw every morning; the wall opposite her bed, with its pattern of mould and dank climbing upwards. Instead she saw a knight in armour, fussing about her feet. An unnatural pain ripped through them, and she let out a small cry in protest.

The knight looked up. "I am sorry, my lady" He sat down. "We believed that it would be best to administer cauterising rods to your feet when you were unconscious rather than awake. We thought that it would be less painful".

Aibhilín looked at her feet. The wounds, which yesterday were open and oozing pus and blood were burnt and sealed together. She knew that it was for the best, and that soon she would be able to run. She gave a small nod of her approval.

"I must seal your back now, lady" Aibhilín turned over onto her back, with a sheet covering her legs. The knight passed her a leather strap, and she bit on it, and steeled herself in anticipation of what would come. She knew that she only had four holes on her back, and they would not take long to seal. She clamped onto the strap, her eyes raging with power and determination.

Suddenly, she saw the knife sail through the air and land in the snow outside. She could feel the knight's carefully concealed surprise, and she knew what had happened.

"I knew it!" Guinevere blazed. She pulled up a dagger and held it to his throat. "How dare you harm us! How dare you touch my sister!"

"Sister, they are helping us" Aibhilín said calmly. She of all people knew how to handle Guinevere. "He was healing me"

Guinevere looked into her sisters eyes, looking for a lie. When she found none, she slowly let the dagger drop. The knight seemed amused. "Your last wound is not deep, it should not need burning"

"Thank you, Artorius" Aibhilín said, using his Roman name.

He flinched a little. "In this country I am Arthur"

Aibhilín did not press it. He came and took her hand, examining it with skill, whilst Guinevere watched with distrustful eyes.

"Some of these fingers are out of place" he said, pressing down on her knuckles so gently that Aibhilín did not feel it. "I will have to reset, or you will lose the use of your hand"

Aibhilín nodded, and steeled herself against the pain. A sharp, severe pain shocked her hand, and she could not suppress an involuntary cry. The distrustful look left Guinevere's face, and instead she went to her sister and took her hand.

Arthur sat back, and watched her flex her fingers. "Thank you" she said sincerely. He held out his hand to Guinevere. "Do you wish to be healed as well, lady?"

After a pause, Guinevere nodded. She let him reset her fingers, and she too cried out. She slumped against Arthur "They tortured us...with machines" she whispered. "They made us tell them things we did not know to begin with"

Aibhilín nodded a little, her mind still in that dark and dank dungeon. She kept her tongue firmly latched though. Guinevere was not cautious enough sometimes. She made a small secret motion that told Guinevere to stop talking. Her sister shot her a sharp glance, that Aibhilín felt that Arthur did not miss. He reset her sister's fingers silently, and left without another word. As soon as he was gone, Guinevere sat next to her sister.

"What do you think of them?" she asked in the Celtic tongue.

Aibhilín considered this carefully. "I think that Arthur is a good leader and a strong man, but I don't trust the others. I think that we have no significance to them"

"They are as much prisoners as us, I could see it in their eyes" Guinevere observed.

Losing interest in the conversation, Aibhilín looked out of the wooden wagon, its sides covered with cloth. She let out a small cry of surprise. "Honorius and Valnoria are here!"

Guinevere scrambled over as best she could. "Why?"

Aibhilín looked to the nearest knight, the one who had pulled her out of the dungeon. "Why are they here?" she said, pointing.

The curly haired knight turned to look at the noble Roman family. "A Roman bishop sent us here to rescue them from the Saxons" A small flicker of disgust crossed his face, and Aibhilín repressed a smile. It was clear that there were others who detested the Romans.

"Why do you fight for a country not your own?" she asked quietly.

Lancelot looked at Aibhilín closely. She was very perceptive, and her clear green eyes were intense. He did not feel like he could lie to her. "I am made to. We all are. We should be free men by now"

Aibhilín nodded, and would have talked more, but the cold snow made her shiver, and Guinevere pulled her in. "You frown upon me for talking to Arthur, yet you freely converse with a knight!" she hissed in the Celtic tongue.

"He does not wish to fight for Rome"

"Still, if Dauídh thinks that your loyalties are wavering..."

Aibhilín reached for her dagger. She did not unsheathe it, merely closed her hand over it in a massive gesture that Guinevere did not miss. "Don't doubt my loyalties" she said deliberately, with no sign of the anger that closed about her throat.

Guinevere stared out of the wagon, towards the mountains. "We must speak to him" she said very quietly, just a breath on the air. "We must get him to Dauídh"

Aibhilín nodded. "How?"

"I have an idea..."

Arthur rode his horse close to the wagon, his mind full of thoughts. He was pulled out of them when he felt someone's eyes on him. He turned around and saw Guinevere leaning against the side of the wagon.

"My father told me great tales of you" she said in a rich voice that was tinged with amusement. 

"Really?" he asked uninterestedly. "And what did you hear?"

"Fairy tales. The kind you hear about people so brave, so selfless, that they can't be real. Arthur and his knights. A leader both Briton and Roman. And yet, you chose your allegiance to Rome, to those who take what does not belong to them. That same Rome that took your men from their homeland" Guinevere dove deeper into the conversation, still in her playful way. 

"Listen, lady. Do not pretend you know anything about me or my men". 

"How many Britons have you killed?" she asked, seemingly casually, but her eyes were still fixated on him. 

"As many as tried to kill me. It's the natural state of any man to want to live. 

"Animals live. It's the natural state of any man to want to live free... in their own country. I belong to this land. Where do you belong, Arthur?"

Arthur was silent, but quickly said something so his silence was not interpreted as weakness

"How's your hand?" 

"I'll live, I promise you. Is there nothing about my land that appeals to your heart?" Guinevere knew that she was unsettling him, and she was glad. This man needed to remember where he came from. "Your own father married a Briton. Even he must have found something to his liking"

"Do not talk of my father" Arthur snapped. Guinevere began to see the cracks in his mask.

"Is he dead?"

Arthur nodded.

"He died in battle?"

"It's a family tradition" he snapped at her. Taking that as her cue, Guinevere withdrew into the wagon, full of new knowledge.

Aibhilín let herself be led off by Valnoria, into a different wagon. She did not fear this weak Roman matron and she understood the woman's struggle between duty and compassion. She wished to help the prisoners, but it was suicide to disobey her husband. Aibhilín's mind, however, was full of more than Valnoria. She was still inwardly fuming with Guinevere. She could not believe that her own sister would accuse her of breaking her blood allegiance to their people. And yet...the whole idea swirled around her brain ceaselessly, playing on Aibhilín's own fears. If she was asked to kill these men, could she? Would she? Should she? It was all out of her hands, and she did not like this feeling of powerlessness. She was restless and aching and sore. She had to find some relief.

Valnoria settled her in a tub of melted snow and started cleaning the blood off her back and out of her hair. Aibhilín could feel the disgust in her touch as she traced the blue tattoo designs on her back. Aibhilín closed her eyes, and relaxed into herself. She had to let go of all the confusion, and accept that fate was not always up to her. She also had to let go of her anger with Guinevere. In the tribe, whenever they quarrelled, Aibhilín would go and brood in the forest, then find her friends and let them put her in a better humour. When she was happy, she would find her sister and apologise. In fact, by now she didn't even go to the forest. She just let Leofwen and Ealusaid amuse and sympathise with her, and she would be glad to make up with Guinevere. But they were gone, maybe to their deaths, and all that Aibhilín had left was her sister. They had to stay united, or they would fall and fail.

She opened her eyes slowly and saw a figure watching her through the filmy cloth that surrounded the wagon. In the lamplight he appeared only in a shadow, a silhouette. It was only the eyes, the dark shining eyes that gave him away. She'd seen those eyes before, and she'd seen that soul before. Her clear green eyes raked his, and she saw everything that he was feeling. It was good. She delved deeper, until she found what she was hunting for...

Valnoria moved in front of her to clean some of the wounds on her arm and blocked her view. Aibhilín craned to see around her, but by the time she moved, he was gone, and only a set of footprints in the snow told her that he had ever been there.

Valnoria gave her some clothes to replace her bloody rags; a grey tunic, brown breeches and leather boots. Even as distracted as she was, Aibhilín was glad for the clothes. If she and Guinevere were dressed like knights, it would not be so noticeable when they left the wagon and safety of the knight's guard. She knew now though, that she was being watched for reasons that had less to do with protection and more to do with desire.

She dressed and walked back across the snow to the wagon where Guinevere reclined. It was not natural to either of them to sleep enclosed and within walls, so every night they snuck out to the stars to sleep. It was their lullaby that induced them to sleep. However, they kept up the pretence around the knights from Sarmatia.

Aibhilín moved through the camp, past the knights at the fire and the serfs in a sloppy circle around that. She stopped as she heard her name. "Aibhilín!"

She turned around to see Bors calling to her from the fire. "Have you seen Lancelot? We do not know where he is"

Aibhilín smiled secretly. "No" she lied, adding under her breath. "But I have been seen by him"

* * *

This shows more sisterly interaction, but they are definitely warriors! I would kill to hold a knife to my brothers throat sometimes...ah well, I suppose forcing him to watch Charmed (which he detests), and especially drooling over Drew Fuller. He can't understand it, but then again, I would be a touch surprised if he did (lol).

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm


	4. Duty versus Desire

**WarAdmiral-**Thank God I only have one brother! I also plan to put the characters through a lot of grief, anger and pain...ah well, c'est le vie.

**ChildlikeEmpress**-Yeah, I'm a gory sort of person. I also wanted to show their resolve and courage, but yeah, I mainly just wanted to write some good gory torture. Yes, throttling has its merits, but I have some subtler methods...plus my brother's 5'9 and I'm nearly 5'5, so I have to reach up! (And the hawk, well, I always wanted a hawk, as well as a tarantula and a lizard but my mum said she'd leave home)

**Elvenstar5**-I'm glad! I'm updating every two days now. Please update your story soon as well!

**MonDieu666**-Yep, I'm good with the torture. I was wondering whether the rating should go up, but I thought was a little extreme.

**Camreyn**-Lucky you! My brother will go to uni in two years though, and I'll get some peace...Later, you'll find out why Guinevere and Aibhilín always fight so much.

This is the romantic crap chapter, and it will be explained later, especially Aibhilin and Guinevere's past. In the meanwhile, you'll just have to be patient...

Also, I couldn't remember exactly what happened in the forest so I skipped most of it.

Blessed be

ChiaraStorm

**Chapter IV: Duty versus Desire **

Two figures, their silhouettes not showing whether they were male or female, made their way across the frozen ground. The moonlight shone down on them, illuminating them under the night. Arthur watched idly as they made their way to the woods. Growing more curious, he watched as the one closest to him turned and pushed her hood back slightly. Her brown eyes gleamed with promise and expectation. There was something in there, something that induced him to follow her. He rose and just as silently as the two ghosts of people walked through the snow. He was cold, but did not shiver and curious, but did not ask. He merely followed them, wherever they were taking him.

"Aibhilín, Guinevere" came a voice from behind them. Dauídh made his way through the roots of the trees that were hidden in the dark. "And the mighty Arthur"

Their father began to talk, but a movement behind her caught Aibhilín. She turned around, and caught sight of a familiar figure standing sentinel. She turned around and began her ascent out of the hallowed ring, and walked up behind him, her feet noiseless, yet, he knew that she was there. He was a true warrior, worthy of a Woad.

"Why are you out there?"

She didn't stop, but came up behind him. "We are taking Arthur to his roots"

He twisted around, and started to move into the trees. Aibhilín stopped him. "This is for his ears only"

"Is that why you're here, then? To keep us away while you kill Arthur?" His voice rose a little in a fury, and Aibhilín pressed a finger to his lips. She leaned in, so close that her breath could be felt right by his ear. "I saw you tonight"

He paused, understanding the tone in her voice. "I meant no-" he began, but she cut him off.

"I saw _you_. What you did not want me to see"

"What?" he asked his voice soft and still on the air, but not without a hint of steel too.

"Desire" she breathed, her breath tickling his ear. "I think I know who for"

Lancelot paused, and stared at Aibhilín, who boldly stared back, her green eyes open and honest. He started to open his mouth, but no sound came out. Aibhilín started talking again as if he had not spoken-or at least tried to.

"There is no shame in it. Without desire, there is no want. Without want there is no need. Without need there is no purpose. Without purpose...there is no life. I have desires too. One of them is the same as one of yours"

She pulled herself away from him and looked at him straight. She stared at him intently, waiting for the implications of her words to sink in. After a minute which passed like an hour, she leaned in again, but this time to his mouth, and she caressed it with her lips, a brief, soft icy cold kiss. She pulled away, but Lancelot drew her back in with a deeper, more insistent kiss. Her lips and heart grew warmer, and she raised her blue-tattooed arms to encircle his neck. She forgot everything except that. All things of other significance faded away.

She broke away for an instant, but in that instant she opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was the colour blue. The colour of her tattoos that coiled and snaked up her arms, legs and back.

Suddenly, a thought flashed across her already-preoccupied mind. She was a Woad. Woads did not associate with knights doing Rome's duty, let alone kiss them. They were enemies. She pulled away hurriedly.

"What's wrong?" she heard him ask, as if from a distance. _Don't let him see your feelings_ she told herself.

"I can't" she breathed.

"Why not?" Aibhilín tried to distance herself from his voice, but it penetrated her emotional shield easily. She withdrew into herself, like a snail into its shell. "This was not meant for us" she said quietly, before turning around and fleeing back into the forest. She forced herself not to look back. She knew what the expression on his face would be.

Something grabbed her as she ran past, and she ended up on the floor. Standing over her was Guinevere. "I saw that" she hissed. "You really have turned, haven't you?"

Aibhilín twisted over and deftly got to her feet. "That was a mistake" she said calmly, hoping that her sister calmed down. Instead, she fired up again.

"We come here to save out people and you instead try to bed a knight!"

Aibhilín drew out her dagger, but this time, she held up in a ready-to-attack position. "I do not wish to bed a knight"

Guinevere made a gesture that showed what she thought of that. Aibhilín twisted around and got the dagger pointing in Guinevere's back. Guinevere ducked and dove forward so that the dagger was in front of her. Aibhilín feinted to the right and while her sister was distracted she kicked her in the kneecaps. Guinevere stumbled, and her sister wrestled her to the ground. Sitting on her midriff, she held the dagger above her throat.

Guinevere looked up at her sister. They often wrestled like this; it was how they had become so good at hand-to-hand combat. However, now Aibhilín had a strange glint in her eye, an inhuman desire to kill.

"Save your bloodlust for the Saxons" Guinevere said, trying and succeeding in keeping the quaver out of her voice.

After a second, Aibhilín cast away the dagger. Guinevere sat up, and stared at her sister.

"You desire him" It was not a question it was a statement. Aibhilín was glad she didn't say love, as she would not know what to say to that. She had never lied to Guinevere, and she did not intend to start now.

"I do" she said truthfully.

Guinevere sighed. "It was not meant to be"

Aibhilín gave a humourless snort. "You do not know. You have never felt this"

Guinevere said nothing, and merely pursed her lips.

"What should I do?" Aibhilín asked in an uncharacteristically quiet and wounded voice.

"Tell no-one. Forget. Just do your duty to our people and then we will leave and you will not see him again" Guinevere suggested in the most unfeeling tone possible.

Aibhilín shook away her sister and went back into the woods towards Dauídh and Arthur, Guinevere following with a concerned expression on her face. She suddenly turned away and headed back towards the knight's camp.

Lancelot made an uneasy way back through the forest, to where his sleeping pallet was. He settled himself in his cloak, as if asleep, but his eyes were open and glazed over as he thought. He did not understand Aibhilín. She had seemed so open at first, so forward. It was she who had kissed him first, and then when he had responded, she had declared it wrong. It made no sense.

Suddenly, a hand shot out of the darkness, making a small rustle where it brushed the foliage. Lancelot's hand immediately shot to the swords he always carried, but the slim hand was surprisingly strong and stayed his hand.

"Aibhilín has a past that you know nothing about" the voice said, in atone so quiet that it merely floated by, almost lost in the night air. "She cannot bind herself to you. Do not expect her to"

Lancelot dove his hand into the undergrowth, expecting to find a body, a piece of flesh, but finding only foliage. He pulled away and turned over in his pallet and slept fitfully, always listening out for an enemy. When he woke up her wasn't sure if he had dreamed it all or whether it was real. One thing he was sure of was that the arm had strange patterns on it, like the Woad tattoos.

Guinevere collapsed into the undergrowth. She was not sure if she had done the right thing, but it was for the best. One of the things Guinevere had been taught as a child was that anyone can be undermined with weaknesses, for example, pride, greed or lust. Aibhilín was one of the best fighters she had ever known, and if she gave into this she could destroy all of the things that she had been brought up to believe.

Guinevere suddenly felt guilty. How dare she condemn Aibhilín for lust when yet, she felt similar stirrings in her own heart? They were both warriors, and they could not give into such selfish feelings. She wished that Ealusaid were here. She focused on her, capturing an image of her with her mind's eye. She was such a calming influence, yet a cold-blooded killer. She would know what to do.

"Ealusaid, friend" she whispered into the air. "I need you now" She crawled back through the forest, where Dauídh was standing. She slid into the darkness, beside Aibhilín, whose face was a mask of forced calm. They did not try to communicate. They did their duty, as daughters of Dauídh, but inside both of them were fighting their own desires.

Dawn broke, and with it the calm.

Many woke to the sound of a scream. Marius had grabbed Lucan, the boy that had been pulled out of the pit with Aibhilín and Guinevere, and was holding a sword-inexpertly, Aibhilín noted-to his throat.

"I've got the boy!" he called out in his nasal Roman voice.

Dagonet drew his broadsword threateningly. The guards raised theirs as well.

Arthur and the two sisters watched in the undergrowth. Arthur pulled his bow off of his back and raised it, but Guinevere grabbed it strongly. He released it with an amused smile, and Guinevere gripped it, Aibhilín selected the arrow, Guinevere placed it on the bowstring and Aibhilín griped the bow just above her sister's hand. Both of their hands automatically went to the bowstring, a reflex action now. They pulled it back together, working automatically. They whispered an old Woad rhyme, something traditional to say before slaying an enemy.

"One for the sorrow"

"One for the pain

"One shot in his heart"

"Watch the bloodstain"

"Flowing across his chest"

"He is now slain"

The arrow flew through the air, landing perfectly in the target. Marcus Honorius looked down at his chest, as if he had never seen his own blood before. He fell, taking an age to hit the ground. Guinevere gave a small, satisfied smile, but Aibhilín's face was a stony as ever. Somehow his death didn't seem to satisfy the empty, gaping hole inside of her.

"I see your hands are much better now" came a voice from behind her. Aibhilín did nothing, but her whole body stiffened, and it was plain to see the colour from her face faded fast. Suddenly she felt the world rock beneath her. She swayed, and Lancelot caught her arm just a little. She thought that she was fainting, but a drumming sound filled the air, and she was brought back to her senses. With usual lack of tact, she shook him off, refusing to look him full in the face. Guinevere saved her by starting to walk away, taking her with her. Aibhilín gave her sister a grateful glance.

"Saxons" Arthur said. "We must move on"

They moved through the encampment towards the centre.

"How many did you kill?" Bors asked Tristan

"Four"

"Not a bad start to the day" 

They made unsteady progress through the mountains. The drumming got louder. They prepared to press on, but they reached a lake of ice. Arthur made everyone slow down, but the drumming grew closer. Arthur turned to the men with an obvious question on his face.

"My ass is sore from riding all day." Bors said.

"Let's see what the bastards look like." Galahad said replied.

Guinevere and Aibhilín stared at each other. They smiled. One was not enough to kill in a day.

* * *

The next chapter is a big action one, and finally, you'll meet the other two girls! I also plan on putting Lancelot through some grief too, as well as almost killing off everyone else. Enjoy!

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm


	5. Blood on Ice

**Camreyn**-Not everyone dies, but there are going to be some casualties. I'm updating every two days, so not too long then, I hope? (Also, you each put one hand on the bow and two fingers above the arrow and two below). By the way, please hint, it tells me what you want :-D

**Slightly-psychotic**-Yeah, I'm not so fond of the romance either. This chapter's my favourite though, because I've sort of found a balance (i.e.; there's action and romantic crap). Plus, what is a Mary-Sue? I'm English.

**ChildlikeEmpress**-I made it up myself, I like poetry, no-one can tell you its wrong ;-)

**MaLooLa**-I didn't really warm to Guinevere in the film, but the way I see Aibhilín is the way I think they should have portrayed Guinevere. Aibhilín is said AH-vih-leen, according to the Gaelic names translator I found it on. Personally, I think it's pronounced Abe-hill-in, but go with the flow, whatever feels right to you.

**Midnight Conqueror**-Thank you! I'm going back to school on the second, which might slow everything down, but I'm still going to try and update every two days.

OK, here is the chapter on the ice, where you finally meet the other two girls. There is some mushy romantic crap in this one, so if you didn't like the last chapter, tough luck. There is some action in it though, so you might like it (I hope...).

**IMPORTANT!!!-** I'm thinking of killing off one of the original four (Aibhilín, Guinevere, Leofwen or Ealusaid). Who should it be? Cast your vote in your review, and I'll give you the results in the next update.

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm

**Chapter V: Blood on Ice **

The drumming grew closer.

"But you are seven against two hundred!" Alecto, the spawn of Honorius protested.

"Nine" Guinevere spoke for the two of them. Aibhilín counted her arrows, and then looked up. She could see some of the knights looked apprehensive. "I never miss" she said reassuringly.

Guinevere smiled as well, and they took up their positions beside the knights. Almost as soon as she did so, the Saxons appeared, tramping across the ice.

"There are a large number of lonely men out there" Lancelot said quietly to Aibhilín. She could sense that he was trying to say more than he could, but before she cold reply, Guinevere cut in.

"Don't worry, I won't let them rape you" A smile played about the ragged features of many of the knights, but Aibhilín shot her younger sister a look that spoke volumes to a sister.

The Saxons rounded their way around the curve of the mountain. Most of them contorted their faces in what passed for a smile when they saw the nine of them. One of them who had a braided beard seemed to be in command. He looked at them calculatingly, and Aibhilín felt a wash of revulsion. He just seemed to be watching them.

"Bors, Tristan?" Arthur said courteously. The two of them raised their bows.

"We are far out of range!" Guinevere exclaimed.

Tristan gave a small smile, and fired; Bors too. They reached the Saxons and buried themselves in the hearts of two of them. Guinevere gave a small and embarrassed blush

At a signal from Arthur, all of them raised their bows.

"Shoot at the outside ranks. Make them cluster!" Arthur ordered. Obediently, they fired, every arrow finding its target. The outside ranks did indeed cluster, and they looked apprehensive. They were still getting closer though, and the knights were almost in their range. More arrows pushed them together, and Aibhilín was reminded of something she had long forgotten.

"The still element that holds all potential" Aibhilín murmured while, as if in slow motion, the ice let out a long and menacing crack. The ice still did not shatter though.

"It's not breaking. Prepare for combat" As they started to pull out swords and daggers, Dagonet started to run across the ice. Ignoring the shouts from behind him, he ran for the centre and started to raise his axe, hacking away at the ice.

"Dag! What are you doing!" Bors shouted. All of them stared as he ran out into the line of fire.

Aibhilín hated this feeling of powerlessness. She was not used to it; it was not in her nature. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a figure slid down the side of the mountain. On closer inspection, it was two people, one holding a shield and the other a bow. The sword was waved aloft in the air. Aibhilín took her cue. She broke into a run across the ice.

Leofwen took down her sword, and stuck it in its sheath. She whispered to Ealusaid. "She saw"

Ealusaid nodded and began an onslaught of arrows. The Saxons turned away from Dagonet and Aibhilín and towards them. Some started to shoot, but the girls were sliding down fast, and it was hard to hit them. Also, Leofwen was covering them with the shield.

Ealusaid hit the ground running and ran straight into the arms of the Saxons. She stuck her bow on her back and pulled out twin daggers-both wickedly sharp and pointed. She began plunging them into Saxons. At first they merely treated her as a pest, and expected her to die at the hands of one of the two hundred Saxons surrounding her, but when she proved how competent she was, they all started to swamp her. As she had hoped, their attention was turned away from Aibhilín and Dagonet. It gave them a window of chance.

Leofwen waited, pulling her own bow off her back and holding an arrow poised and ready. Her eyes scanned the seven stationary fighters, and she saw Guinevere. She had her own bow raised and was firing rapidly at the Saxons who had their bows trained on her sister. She was firing rapidly, but she still saw Leofwen. Because of that, she was distracted, and one archer who was meant to die did not. His own arrow travelled to Aibhilín and caught her in her ankle as she ran. She fell, but literally dragged herself across the ice. She skidded along until she was just next to Dagonet. Just as another arrow head for Dagonet, she threw up her arm and used her quiver to block it. Dagonet threw down his shield to her, and she hid behind it, protecting the two of them. Dagonet hacked again at the ice, the small spears and chips flying out and wounding Aibhilín's face. She shut her eyes instinctively, and when she opened them again, the first thing she saw was Ealusaid. She was fighting for her life, and her face was set-cold and merciless. Aibhilín looked up at her just as the Saxon leader raise his own bow.

He fired once.

Ealusaid looked down at herself, where an arrow protruded from her stomach, between her hip and her abdomen. She fell, her daggers leaving her grasp involuntarily and landing a metre or two away. She collapsed to her knees.

Guinevere gasped as she saw Ealusaid crumple to the ground. Her hands searched vainly for her daggers, which she clutched in her hands tightly, as if loath to let them go.

The Saxons, believing her to be fatally wounded turned their attention to Aibhilín. The man with the braided beard smiled, and raised his bow again. Aibhilín had let the shield drop as she stared at her dying friend. He took full advantage of the lull and raised another arrow to his bow. He aimed at Aibhilín. She saw him aim the arrow at her head, but she could not move. Even Dagonet seemed to pause. The ice cracked again, but she did not move. She could not move.

Time seemed to stop. As if in slow-motion, Aibhilín saw the bowstring strain and the arrow fly. Suddenly, as the arrow was half-way across the ice, two arrows hit him simultaneously, sticking out at right angles. Aibhilín barely had time to register this when the arrow caught her in the shoulder. She screamed in pain as the arrow dug into her flesh.

Guinevere lowered her bow and watched as her sister fell back wards onto the ice. She could not use the left side of her body because of the arrows in her shoulder and ankle, and yet she still tried to shield Dagonet. She was almost collapsing with the effort. It was clear that she was exhausted, and Guinevere's instinct was telling her that her sister would die soon. Yet somehow, she couldn't move. She could only watch and wait.

Leofwen put down her bow and stared at Guinevere. They had both moved to save Aibhilín, and now they man had two arrows in him, the same as Aibhilín. She watched as the man she was defending took another two arrows. However, he still raised the axe and thudded it into the ice. It cracked and spread as if alive. He fell under, into the hole he had created. Aibhilín kept her balance, moving away from the crack but another arrow thudded into her shield, which she dove behind. That movement caused the ice to fracture again, and she fell straight through as well.

Ealusaid watched through her bed of pain as the ice cracked around her. She waited for the freezing cold waters to engulf her, but instead she felt a throbbing pain just by her shoulder. She looked up and saw Leofwen, standing up on a rock. Wrapped around her wrist was a length of rope. Her eyes travelling down it, she saw that it was attached to the arrow that had just grazed her shoulder. Ealusaid cottoned on and grabbed the arrow. Wincing, she grabbed it and started to crawl along, grasping the arrow in both hands. The ice broke at an alarming rate, and soon she was on the brink of icy cold waters. As she started to fall, she grabbed the arrow. She slid round and into the ice, but her head and arms were free. She started to climb onto the ice, but it broke again, and she was floating in the water. Her legs were going numb and her arms seemed to be frozen in a position above her head.

Leofwen tugged on the rope, and Ealusaid drifted easily towards the mountainside. She was certainly very still, and all of the blood was draining out of her face. The arrow must have gone in very deep. Leofwen's heart leapt into her mouth when she saw the water around her getting bloodstained; the movement must have been damaging the wound further.

Leofwen leapt down to the lakeside and pulled Ealusaid out. Her stomach was bleeding fast, staining the pure white snow around it. Leofwen pried the arrow out of her hand, and fitted it to her bow again. She looked over to Guinevere, and let her bow drop.

"Oh no" she breathed. "Oh no"

Cold water, rushing around, swirling between her hair. The cold bit into her eyes and drained the blood from her face, tightening the skin, stretching and manipulating it. She had been in water like this before. She and Leofwen had gone down to the water near their tribe and tried to swim to the other side. She had walked, enjoying the slow, gradually increasing motion of the water as it climbed up her sides. Suddenly, the mud has disappeared from beneath her feet and she had fallen. She couldn't find her feet again and it was lucky that she had been pulled out by Leofwen. She had felt so scared at first, but she had conquered it-or so she thought. The sun-warmed lake that had shone green and blue was nothing compared to the ice white storm grey salt sharpness of this frozen loch.

Sinking by her was Dagonet. He stared at her once, and she saw gratefulness shine out of his eyes. He didn't blame Aibhilín for any of this. She could see the peaceful expression on his face. His hand drifted closer to Aibhilín, and she grabbed it, willing him to hold on and live, as if her touch out give him life. But he did not seem able to hold onto her hand, and all that was left in her hand was a ring that he always wore. She clasped her hand around, and resolved herself to watch as he sank into an icy blackness. She felt unbidden tears mingle with the salt water of the lake. Suddenly something grabbed her, and she was propelled upwards. She watched as Dagonet disappeared, his axe drifting free from his hand. Aibhilín watched as that too, left its owner for the first time, never to be reclaimed again. She opened her mouth the scream, but only water flooded in. She had never felt so much emotional and physical torture.

That's when she stopped breathing. It was just easier.

Guinevere felt ice splinter her heart as she watched her sister fall through. All that she could see was her sister's huge green eyes, staring at her just as they closed and she slipped.

Suddenly, she ran. She ran across the ice so fast that she felt completely detached from her legs. Behind her she could hear other people running-two of them. They were keeping up with her well, but at least one of them was running as urgently as her. Regardless of the breaking ice, she threw herself down and she peered into the dark depths of the water. Lancelot and Bors were behind her. They both knelt next to her and scanned the waters with their eyes. They saw nothing, but just as they were on the point of desperation, they saw Dagonet's axe floating past.

Guinevere cast a glance at Bors, whose tough, battle-scarred face crumpled. She felt truly sorry for him, and wished that she knew the right thing to say, but her throat and brain did not seem to be linked any more. Instead, she turned her face back to the water. She leaned in even more, until her nose was almost touching the water. Suddenly, she plunged her hand in.

Lancelot looked at her, where her hand was searching the water. It looked like she was diving blindly; but then, he saw a wave of black hair swaying with the water. She looked deceptively close, but Guinevere could not reach her.

Suddenly, Lancelot made a snap decision. He dug his own dagger into the ice. It was shorter than the depth of the ice, and only caused a small split. It would not break up too soon. He placed his sword by that, and, grabbing the dagger with his left hand, slid in.

It was agony-the water was so cold, it froze his entire skin. His leather tunic and metal mail did nothing to prepare him for the cold. And also, the chain-mail was weighing him down. It was helping him descend faster, but he was fighting against his desire for breath and his desire to close his eyes. He focused only on Aibhilín. She wasn't even trying to swim anymore, and she was sinking into the depths.

Lancelot swam down quickly and was close, so close. He could almost touch Aibhilín now...and he suddenly was propelled forward as the dagger came loose and he was left with it in his hand. Whilst he had the chance, he grabbed Aibhilín by the waist, pulling her into him and starting to move upwards with his free hand. It was not easy, and he was dying for a breath. He swam upwards, fighting the cold, the lack of air, the way his muscles were screaming out for a rest. He just focused on Aibhilín, and saving her.

His head broke the surface, and he could honestly say that that was the most relieved he had ever been in his whole life. Guinevere said nothing, but nearly fell in herself trying to pull Aibhilín out. Bors hauled Lancelot out, and he shivered in the cold air. His part was done...or so he thought.

Guinevere bent over her sister's body. As she did so, an arrow flew through the air, skidding across the snow and nearly falling into the lake where many Saxon bodies were floating. Gawain picked it up.

"It has runes or markings on it" he declared, his face rumpled. Guinevere looked up, and snatched the arrow away. She stared intently at the arrow, engraved with the Laguz rune, the Hagalaz rune, and the Sowilo rune with a slash through it. She stared at the mountainside, and suddenly waved the arrow in the air. The knights looked on bemusedly, and she turned to them.

"Leofwen and Ealusaid, my friends are coming down the mountain. Ealusaid is wounded" She turned to Arthur. "Can we not help them?"

Arthur did not question how this she knew this, and instead looked up the mountain. There were two people there, one of which was practically dragging the other. "Yes" he nodded. "Tristan, Bors?" he asked. Tristan started to ride willingly, but Bors hung back, waiting by the lake in which floated the body of Dagonet. Arthur did not press it, but looked at Galahad, who rode off and up the mountainside. Guinevere did not look anymore, but instead concentrated on Aibhilín. She ran her hands over her limbs in an effort to get the circulation flowing again.

Lancelot looked at her. She was even paler than usual, and her clothes were bloodstained. Some of the arrow shafts had broken off, but they were deep and getting the heads out would not be easy. There were no signs of breathing from her. To Lancelot she looked dead.

He bent down and ran one hand down the side of her face. He still thought that she looked beautiful, unnervingly so. Not caring that Bors and Guinevere were there, to say nothing of the other knights, he covered her mouth with his and breathed his spirit into her.

Live, he willed her. Live for me. Please.

He pulled away, looking at her. Her eyes fluttered open, and she took in a heaving breath. Then she sat up, coughing.

Guinevere and Lancelot breathed in identical sighs of relief. Aibhilín twisted over, towards Bors and held out her hand. She pressed something into his palm and then collapsed again with the effort. "Cold" she whispered. "Very cold"

Guinevere put her own cloak over her, but Aibhilín was already slipping back into sleep. Guinevere slapped her face to keep her awake, but she stopped as she saw Tristan and Galahad return with two girls. One of them was blond, with pale curls falling about her face. She never took her eyes off of her companion, who was lying over Galahad's horse. She looked relaxed, as if in sleep, but she was bleeding heavily from the abdomen and already the blood was spilling over the bandage and tunic she wore, spotting the snow with her blood.

Leofwen, the blond one, leapt off of Tristan's horse and ran to Guinevere. She embraced her old friend and turned to Aibhilín. She pressed her hand to one of Aibhilín's numerous wounds and let the blood mingle with hers and Ealusaid's. She grinned at Guinevere.

"Blood of friends, death and life. Battle and conflict, war and strife" She placed a bloody handprint on the snow and turned to Guinevere. "This is our reunion. Death and pain"

Guinevere said nothing but embraced her friend again. "Is Ealusaid...?"

"Not yet, but..." Both of them turned to her. She looked serene and natural, even as the blood of life was drained from her, drop by drop. The two girls said nothing else, but turned to each other for comfort, as one ray of hope in a dark time.

* * *

I really hate myself...oh well. Next chapter up soon, but I'm trying to get a Charmed fic off of the ground right now.

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm

P.S Reviews make my fingers type faster (hint hint!)


	6. After the Ice

**SunsetSparrow-**Thanks! I'm updating every two days.

**Midnight Conqueror-**Do you want them to? You saw the bit about the vote, right?

**Camreyn-**Thanks! I want to be a writer, so your review meant a lot to me. (hands out cookies to Camreyn)

**ElvenStar5-**Thanks for being honest. I don't know if I'm going to kill off Aibhilín or Guinevere, but judging by popular opinion...

**Underwater owl-**Hmm, haven't decided if Tristan lives or not. I might, just to be kind...

**Katie Moore**-I'm not giving up any time soon. (Although, begging would help my already over-inflated ego...)

**MonDieu666**-I went to . If you type King Arthur into the search engine, it comes up with a King Arthur page. Down the left there is a section called memorable quotes. I just took them. Thanks for reviewing!

**VI: After the Ice**

They placed Aibhilín and Ealusaid in the wagon. Aibhilín was wrapped in thick cloaks and was sleeping deeply, but her breaths were light and easy. Her wounds were relatively light, and they washed her gashes with infusions of certain herbs and pressed bandages to them. Ealusaid was the one that they were worried about.

She woke up for a while and was able to talk to Guinevere.

"How bad is it?" she asked, knowing that Guinevere would answer her honestly.

Guinevere paused before answering. "There's a lot of blood, and we cannot get the arrowhead out"

Ealusaid nodded, understanding the implications of what Guinevere was telling her. "What of Aibhilín?" she croaked out.

Guinevere handed her a waterskin, and helped her drink. "She's asleep. Her wounds are not as serious as yours"

Ealusaid slowly twisted her head to the side. "Where are we going?"

"To the wall. The knights who we have been travelling with are being discharged from Rome's service"

Ealusaid nodded, wincing at the millions of hurts that caused her pain with each movement. Guinevere laid a cool hand on her forehead. "Sleep and heal" she said softly. "I will find Leofwen"

Ealusaid said nothing but watched as Guinevere checked on Aibhilín and then left. She walked almost aimlessly, but Ealusaid knew that was worry. Guinevere was incredibly strong, but being reunited with her friends only to watch them die would take a toll on anyone. Ealusaid tried to sleep, not noticing the fatal bleed that started.

Guinevere moved throughout the camp. She was truly shocked by the changes that had taken place. Instead of joking and sparring as they usually did, the knights were all sober and earnest. Guinevere did not fully understand until she saw the axe driven into a tree. Dagonet's axe.

On another hand, since the death of Marcus Honorius, many of the serfs were freer than they had ever been in their entire lives. The guards were leaderless, and they had a chance to think for themselves. They wished to celebrate, but in honour of Dagonet, they had refrained. Guinevere suspected Fulcinia or Alecto had something to do with it.

Guinevere went over to the knights, meaning to ask if anyone had seen Leofwen, but she soon saw her for herself. She was sitting amongst the knights, obviously mingling with them.

Galahad threw a knife, and it buried itself deep into a tree. Tristan stood up, and threw his knife. It buried itself in the hilt of Galahad's dagger.

"Tristan, how do you do that?" Gawain asked incredulously.

Tristan looked at him dryly. "I aim for the middle"

"I bet you anything that you can't hit my dagger" Leofwen suddenly spoke up. She looked at Tristan, amusement shining in her grey eyes. Suddenly, her hand flicked upwards, and her dagger appeared in the branches.

Tristan looked up. The dagger was almost diagonal to the tree trunk, and it was not too difficult to see or hit. Tristan wrenched his dagger free, aimed and threw it skywards. The dagger seemed on target, but it gracefully curved and stuck in the branch, about four inches above Leofwen's.

"Trick of the eye" she grinned. "The dagger looks much closer than it is"

"Where did you learn that?"

"Ealusaid taught me" Leofwen said, sheathing her dagger. "She's the skilled one when it comes to daggers"

"How is she?" Bors asked kindly.

Guinevere's voice broke in. "She was awake" She beckoned for Leofwen to come, and she did. "I'll teach you more dagger tricks later" she said to Tristan. She and Guinevere left, and walked back into the wagon.

"I'll stay up for a few hours, and then I'll wake you up" Guinevere said. "We'll get him at midnight"

Aibhilín opened her eyes. She stared outside the cage just for something to do. The moon was up, and the light made everything shine silver and black. The light shone on Ealusaid, illuminating her serene features. Aibhilín smiled at her and turned away, not noticing the sticky blood that was covering her stomach, nor her friend's extraordinary pallor.

Staring out into the forest, she looked out towards the knights. All of them were still and sleeping, most lightly and fitfully. She studied their silhouettes, trying to make out who was who. Tristan was obvious, his braids gave him away. She could also make out Bors's heavy outline and Arthur's quiet confidence that somehow gave him away even as he slept. She half thought that he was only pretending to sleep, so that he could keep watch.

Lancelot's face was tilted towards her, and Aibhilín smiled involuntarily. She lay back and stared at his profile, with his dark curly hair and chiselled face. She sighed a little. She could not do anything about this, and in a twisted kind of way, she didn't want to. What she was feeling was painful and agonizing, but she was still wanted to feel this. It was her coming alive, and she was glad to feel this. It stopped her from losing her humanity. She was a warrior, but she had to be a woman too.

Out of the shadows came two figures, hooded and cloaked. Aibhilín watched with curiosity as they bent down over him, and then straightened up. Lancelot followed willingly, but Aibhilín had a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. She started to

She gave a muffled scream and almost blacked out with the pain. She flopped back, and gave the impression that she was asleep, even though her mind was racing. Again she tried to get up. Grinding her teeth together as the only outlet for her pain, she drunkenly staggered out into the snow.

Lancelot awoke that night to a hand being pressed over his mouth. Instinctively, he put a hand over his sword hilt, but another hand stayed his. The hand was removed from his mouth.

"Come quickly and quietly, it's about Aibhilín" A voice that could have easily been imagination or the rustling of the wind through the forest whispered, and left like a shadow. Lancelot quietly stood up, and followed it. He thought he knew that voice...A glimpse of moonlight pale hair told him everything he needed to know.

In a dark clearing in the forest, they stopped and turned around. Pushing back their hooded cloaks, he could see that his suspicions were confirmed. Leofwen and Guinevere stood before him, their faces solemn.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked.

Guinevere stared at him coldly. "It's about Aibhilín"

"She is promised to someone. When we reach the encampment, she will probably start being prepared for the wedding"

"Promised?" His voice rose slightly. "By her choice or not?"

"Do Roman women have any more choice in their husbands than us?" Guinevere's voice grew sharper. "It's just the way things are"

Lancelot stared at Guinevere. How could she be so complacent? "What does Aibhilín want?"

Guinevere rolled her eyes. "Look, Lancelot, stop playing about. We're here to tell you to leave Aibhilín alone. If you do not, we will make you"

Leofwen softened a little as she saw his face. "This is only protecting you and her. Even if Aibhilín wants this, she cannot have it. Dauídh would never allow it"

Guinevere kicked her as way of making her stop talking. Leofwen took the hint and reset her face stonily. Next to Guinevere she looked like summer to Guinevere's winter, with her pale blond hair and grey eyes. But under the surface they were both winter-cold, sharp and merciless.

"And why has not Aibhilín told me this herself?" Lancelot asked courteously, even though he was seething beneath the surface.

Leofwen was ready to pull out her sword and run him through. "Do not you realise it, you stupid man!"

Guinevere rolled her huge brown eyes. "Leofwen-" she began warning her friend, but she continued regardless.

"Why do you think we are doing this? I only met you at midday, and already I can see that you love her and she loves you! You have barely left her side all day! Aibhilín was ready to die today, and you saved her. She is falling deeper in love than I could have imagined" She drew in a breath and spoke in a calmer tone. "Either you make Aibhilín see the truth or I swear, your manly parts will be in dire danger"

Leofwen turned away. "I will go to the wagon. Ealusaid and Aibhilín need to have a fresh infusion".

Guinevere nodded, and Leofwen left like a shadow. Guinevere turned back to Lancelot. "Ealusaid is very good with daggers. Take her threat seriously"

Guinevere stared at Lancelot. His face was softened, yet she could see a mix of rage, pain and love flitting across it. "Why do you love her?" she asked, so softly that he wondered whether he could ignore her question.

"I do not know" he breathed, equally softly. "I suppose it is that she understood, well, just about everything"

Guinevere nodded. "She's Gifted. She has the Imbas-the fire in the head that inspires wisdom and prophecies" She let her head hang slightly.

They stood there in silence, until a small sound from behind alerted them. Lancelot drew his sword and Guinevere her bow.

The figure held up her hands. "It is me"

"Aibhilín, what are you doing here?" Guinevere asked, lowering her bow.

"I know you, sister" was all she said. "Go, please. Leofwen needs you"

Guinevere did not question how she knew this, but left. Looking back at Lancelot, she made a quick gesture with her hands to remind him of Leofwen's threat.

Lancelot turned to Aibhilín. "What did you mean; I know you sister?"

Aibhilín gave a little snort of humour that was truly humourless. "I have lived with her for almost seventeen years. I know how she thinks" She turned to him, staring at him directly, making him uncomfortable with her intense stare.

"What did she say to you?"

Lancelot opened his mouth, but something in the green eyes stopped him. "You already know, don't you?"

Aibhilín smiled. "So Guinevere did tell you, then?"

"Imbas" He spoke that strange word, feeling it roll off of his tongue. "It must be a burden"

Aibhilín nodded. "Sometimes. But sometimes it shows me things that are true" She turned to him. "That's why I kissed you that night. But then you kissed me...and I remembered"

Lancelot nodded. "That you were betrothed"

Aibhilín shook her head. "That is a Roman word. I call it promised" her tone was regretful, and sorrow was evident on her face.

"Why?" Lancelot asked. "Why did they do that to you?"

Aibhilín shrugged. "It is just out way"

Lancelot paused. "What else do I not know about you?"

"Guinevere told you everything" Aibhilín said. "She has no control over what she says, but...there is something else"

"What?"

"She's jealous" Aibhilín sighed. "I'm with one with Imbas, I look like our mother, Dauídh pays more attention to me than he does to her. I'm even promised" Her fingers twitched, and Lancelot got the feeling that she was waiting for a bow. She took a step forward, and winced with pain. Lancelot picked her up, and meant to carry her back to the wagon. Aibhilín settled there, enjoying the rocking motion and the warm comfort. She was completely relaxed when a scream echoed through the wood. She sat up, and watched as Leofwen run out of the wagon. Her tunic was covered in blood and tears were running down her face.

Leofwen went into the wagon. It was very dark, and she only knew that Ealusaid was awake when she spoke to her.

"Leofwen?" she asked.

"I am here" she replied. She found her way to her bedside, and took her hand in hers. Ealusaid placed hers around it. "Your hand is like ice!" she whispered. "Were you in the snow?"

Leofwen nodded; even in the dark Ealusaid did not miss that. "We decided to tell Lancelot about Aibhilín".

"The dark haired knight who was here earlier?"

"Yes" Leofwen sighed. "It's obvious even to a madman that they love each other"

"Well, what's so wrong with that?" Ealusaid asked.

"Ealusaid!" Leofwen gasped. "You know what's wrong. Aibhilín should have more sense than to put herself in this position"

"She's only human" Ealusaid said. Ealusaid was very calm, and rarely lost her temper, but when she did it was hard to quench. "This could have happened to any of us"

"But she's promised. She should have been married by now, if it were not for all of this" Leofwen protested.

"Still, it is not like she planned this"

"She ought to have not encouraged him" Leofwen said, angry that Ealusaid was arguing with her. Leofwen was proud, and she liked to believe that her opinion was correct. Ealusaid seldom challenged her, and now she was, Leofwen was working herself up into a full-scale fit.

"Who said that she did?"

Ealusaid's calm verities made Leofwen reach her temper point.

"Shhh!" Ealusaid hushed her. "Aibhilín is asleep!"

Leofwen closed her mouth and silently went over to see Aibhilín. She placed her hand on the pallet. "She's not here!"

Ealusaid sat up, and gave a short, violent exclamation. Leofwen went back to her side immediately. "What's wrong?" she asked, Finding her way over to her friend's side, she placed a hand on Ealusaid's stomach. Even in the dark she could see that it was covered with thick sticky blood.

"Oh no" she said. She tore a strip off of the hem of her tunic, and pressed it to Ealusaid's stomach. "I thought we stitched it up when you were unconscious!" she exclaimed.

"It must not have held" Ealusaid said, pressing her hands to her stomach. She was in extraordinary pain, and she thought that she would pass out. She lay back, and closed her eyes, trying to escape from the pain. She found the door, and she walked through it. It was only when she looked back that she realised her mistake.

* * *

Cruelty comes in threes...just a little taste of the next chapter.

* * *

"You act like you're the elder sister" she told her, rubbing her reddened cheek where Guinevere had slapped her. 

"I've had to be" Guinevere told her.

* * *

Ooh...suspense. I have to go back to school tomorrow, which is a real bummer, but I'll try to post either on Friday or Saturday. 

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm


	7. Imbas Fire

School started yesterday, I have some new teachers, some old and mainly rubbish teachers and I have just spent an hour looking at things preserved in formaldehyde, which apparently causes cancer. Oh joy, something else to look forward to. I am not in a good mood, and reviews would certainly make me feel better...(hint hint!)

**MonDieu666**-Thank you! I like the sick chapters, they show my incredible strong will and resolve...yeah right!

**ElvenStar5**-I might not kill any of them...or maybe I will. Haven't decided. (It always makes me feel better to know that some people are worse off than me. The 30th? Man, that's early. My brother broke up in like June and is going back on the 13th. Not fair!

**Camreyn**-I'll try. Do you think that my teachers will understand if I say 'sorry I didn't do my coursework, I've had to update my story for Camreyn?'. Thanks for the inspiration, as always.

**slightly-psychotic**-Yeah, I really hate them too. Please tell me if this turning into a mary-sue, as I will automatically correct this if it is.

**ChildlikeEmpress**-Were you on holiday? If so, I hope that you had a good time. I'm working on this fic as fast as I can, honest!

For all of the upcoming chapters in the foreseeable future, I'm using lyrics from the DreamTheater song Metropolis part I 'The Miracle and the Sleeper'. I think it sets the mood quite well. Tell me if you think it works.

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm

**VII: Imbas Fire**

_Death is the first dance, eternal_

Leofwen ran out wildly. "Guinevere!" she called into the stillness, though still no longer. "Guinevere!"

An unfamiliar hand on her shoulder made her whirl around, hand already going to her sword. "What's wrong?" she heard Arthur ask. She released her sword. "Ealusaid. She's bleeding badly and it won't stop"

Arthur said nothing but went to the wagon. Leofwen started to follow, but a sudden rush of bile entered her throat and stung her mouth. She instead ran into the woods. Her whole mind was fixed on her task, it was all that mattered. It stopped her from vomiting and sobbing. It even stopped her from thinking. All she knew was that she had to find Guinevere.

"Guinevere!" she called into the woodland. Guinevere leapt down, seemingly out of the sky.

"Leofwen, what?" Guinevere said.

"Ealusaid's bleeding, there's so much blood" Leofwen sobbed. Guinevere embraced her, but at the same time forced her to move. Leofwen gradually calmed down, and turned to Guinevere

"What were you doing up there?" she asked.

"I didn't trust Lancelot alone with my sister" Guinevere said grimly.

"Aibhilín's in the woods?" Leofwen asked. "Whatever possessed her to go there in the first place?"

"Imbas, probably" Guinevere said, just a touch bitterly.

They reached the wagon, and inside, they found Arthur, as blood-splattered as Leofwen. "I'm sorry" he said.

"She's dead?" Guinevere asked in a cold voice that trembled just a little.

"No, but she's in the sleeping state, of which no person can be awakened" Arthur said quietly.

"So she's as good as dead!" Leofwen yelled, tears of sorrow and anger falling down her cheeks.

"I have heard of cases where they wake..." Arthur's voice trailed off.

Guinevere took a deep breath, and sat beside Ealusaid. She pressed down the cotton bandages, hoping to staunch the flow of blood. Far from her natural and serene sleep, Ealusaid's face was contorted in pain and she was blood-coated. Guinevere sat by her quietly, as for all her faults, Guinevere loved her sister and her friends deeply. "She isn't dying" she said. "There are no Breaca sith" she said. Arthur looked confused.

"Breaca sith are the marks left on faces of the dying" Guinevere explained, though her voice shook.

Leofwen looked down, and she felt more tears springing to her eyes. On impulse, she ran out of the wagon and into the night. No one tried to follow her.

She ran further into the woods, tears blinding her sight and blood-streaked hands wiping them away. She sat down abruptly, put her head in her hands and sobbed.

Aibhilín looked up from Lancelot's arms and saw Leofwen sobbing. She twisted out of Lancelot's arms and ran clumsily over to Leofwen. "What is it?" she asked; Lancelot stood back respectfully, but watched curiously.

"Ealusaid"

Aibhilín nodded. "I know"

"Why did you ask then?" Leofwen snapped, her sobs turning to temper.

Aibhilín looked at the ground. Leofwen sighed. "I'm sorry" she apologised. Aibhilín moved next to her. She turned briefly to Lancelot.

"I can walk now. Thank you" she said courteously, planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. With her back to Leofwen, she missed the glare that her friend sent Lancelot.

Aibhilín found her way into the clearing again. It was night, almost exactly like the fateful and horror-filled night two weeks ago, except that the moon was new instead of full.

She walked up, through the darkness, until she was behind the figure standing solitary. She slipped her arms around him. He turned around and kissed her, slow and lingering.

She said nothing, but met fire with fire, and kissed him back equally passionately. She pulled him down, and she lay in the melting snow, him next to her. She ran her hands over him, enjoying the sparks that ran over her skin. This had been going on for a while. She somehow knew that secrecy was the best policy when it came to this. Guinevere and Leofwen weren't too receptive. Knowing that Ealusaid couldn't hear her, she sometimes whispered it to her. It was easier that keeping it all to herself. She wanted to revel in these feelings

"Wherever you go, I go" she whispered in his ear, her breath tickling his skin.

She didn't know that a pair of eyes glittered in the undergrowth, watching with malice.

Aibhilín crawled back into the wagon quietly. She was hoping not to attract the attention of Guinevere or Leofwen, whoever was watching Ealusaid. However, luck was not with her.

"Where were you, Aibhilín?" Guinevere's slightly accusing voice floated through to her.

"Nowhere" Aibhilín said. Guinevere reached over and plucked a piece of grass out of her hair. "Your hair's got snow in it" she said.

Aibhilín stared at her straight in the eyes. For some reason, this infuriated Guinevere more than anything else. "How can you?" she asked in a low voice. She turned away, on the pretence of dribbling water in Ealusaid's parched mouth.

"You're one to talk" Aibhilín said quietly.

Guinevere twisted around. "What do you mean?"

Aibhilín sat on her pallet and stared at Guinevere calmly. "You're envious of me, because I found love"

Guinevere gasped and slapped her sister harder than she though that she could. Aibhilín stared up at her defiantly.

"You act like you're the elder sister" she told her, rubbing her reddened cheek where Guinevere had slapped her.

"I've had to be" Guinevere told her. She was blushing a little, and secretly she was ashamed. She had never hit Aibhilín before except when they were playing, and Aibhilín's eyes told her that they were not playing.

"What do you mean?"

Guinevere sat down on her own pallet. "You never took responsibility for anything"

"I never took responsibility for anything?" Aibhilín asked disbelievingly. "I spent my whole childhood caring for you! As soon as Mother died giving you life I was made to take care of you"

"But you still found time to get promised, didn't you?" Guinevere said resentfully.

Aibhilín looked at her incredulously. "You know I never wanted that"

"But I do! You'd still have freedom, and you'd stay in Dauídh's favour. I on the other hand would just be pushed to the side and forgotten"

Aibhilín stared at her. "I wanted to switch placed with you. You could stay unmarried and independent, never having to answer to anyone"

Guinevere looked at her sister. Aibhilín stared back, but her green eyes were compassionate. "I'm sorry for slapping you" Guinevere said in a low voice"

"I'm sorry too" Aibhilín embraced her sister, and they sat next to one another on one pallet, as they used to do when they were little.

"Can you find it in your heart to be happy for me?" Aibhilín asked. "After all, we are in love"

"What!"

Leofwen woke up at Guinevere's shout. She lay there and listened to their conversation.

"We were together earlier" Aibhilín whispered.

"No!" Leofwen stood up. "This was not meant to happen"

Aibhilín looked up at her. "What do you mean?"

Guinevere looked at Leofwen, and they guiltily avoided looking at Aibhilín. However, she understood perfectly.

"So that night, you were there as well, Leofwen?" She asked coldly.

Leofwen nodded.

Aibhilín stared at her. "Why?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

"You can't love him. You're promised" Leofwen reminded her.

"Like hell" Aibhilín said, getting up off of the pallet, and disappearing into the night. Guinevere made to follow her, but Leofwen held her back. "She's not going to want to see us" she reminded her.

Gawain was on guard. It was very quiet, the serfs were sleeping in freedom and the knights were sleeping off their sorrow. More than anything he wanted to sleep himself. When you slept, you didn't have to think. After what only felt like a minute, you woke up and you worked. Then you slept and didn't think. It was easier than

Suddenly, he heard a sound of talking. He stiffened and listened out carefully, but he could not make out the words. He was certain that they were coming from the woods, so very quietly he moved through the long grass, feeling its dew soak his skin.

Aibhilín was sitting on a rock. Her eyes were filmed over, and she was uttering to herself. The language was strange, but the tone was harsh and guttural. It made the cold around him colder and the dew on his skin seem poisonous.

He purposefully made a sound, hoping to startle her out of it, but she remained the same, prone position with the discordant words floating out of her mouth. Gawain walked over to her, moving around so that he was directly in front of her. Still she did not seem to feel his presence. He reached out and lightly placed one hand on her shoulder. She jumped, twisted around and ended up about five feet away from him, her bow drawn and ready. When she recognised Gawain, she let the bow drop.

"Relax lady" Gawain soothed her. "You seemed distressed, so I thought it best to pull you out of-whatever that was"

"An Aisling-a vision" Aibhilín told him, first in the Celtic tongue and then in the knight's language.

Gawain looked at her thoughtfully. Where he came from there were seers and such, but none quite like Aibhilín-warrior one minute, clairvoyant the next.

"Warrior prophets are highly prized in Woad culture" Aibhilín explained. She smiled as she saw his question written clearly on his face. "I had a feeling that was what you were going to ask" she told him. "How far is it to the wall?"

"Only another half-day"

"Gawain, I feel that something foul awaits my people at the wall" she said quietly. "We may need to leave quickly. If I do not get the chance, I wish to thank you for everything now"

"We're knights, it's what we do" Gawain said, truth be told, he was rather disturbed by Aibhilín and her prophecy. He longed to ask what it was that she saw, but he felt that she would only tell him things she was ready to tell him.

"This evil is not for you" she said quietly. "It is for us. The Woads"

Gawain nodded respectfully. Aibhilín stood up. "Get back on guard. Something is going to happen soon"

Gawain moved back to where he was. By the time he looked back, Aibhilín had blended into the trees.

Just before the morning came, in the darkest hour of the night, two people snuck through the woods. Their hair was dark and matted and their arms were covered with swirling blue tattoos. They moved silently, and the wind moved with them as though it was covering their noise.

Aibhilín was waiting in the woods, watching. The Woads moved through the knights, staying behind Gawain, who was oblivious. They moved completely silently, as though their feet weren't touching the ground. Aibhilín watched as they looked at each one, reading each face. They paused at Lancelot.

Aibhilín kept herself from moving forward as she heard them speak in her native tongue. She knew exactly what they were saying, and she didn't like it.

"This is him" they said. Aibhilín leant forward, listening intently.

"How can you tell?"

"He's a warrior" one of them whispered. "Nothing less would satisfy one of Dauídh's daughters"

There was a low laugh. "And also, this man's in love as much as she said he was"

Aibhilín had a shrewd idea who she was. She moved out of the trees.

"Please go" she said. The Woads looked at her disbelievingly and defiantly. "I am Aibhilín, daughter of Dauídh. I am promised to Taidhg son of Bhriain. I command you to go"

They looked at each other and slunk off. Aibhilín watched them go, hand around her bow. It was only when she was gone that she let herself sit down beside him. She sat there and watched him. When anyone started to stir, she moved back into the woods and watched from there.

Lancelot looked to the fort. Inside, there was his discharge paper. He was free to go back to Sarmatia and live a peaceful life there. He would never have to take up his sword again.

He didn't want to do that though.

He didn't have the Imbas, but he had a feeling that this was where he was meant to be.

For now anyway.

* * *

The next chapter is, at present, 3,133 words. It is one of my favourites, unlike this one, which is not my best work. The reason I like the next chapter? It's the romantic crap monster again. If my romantic crap does not satisfy, tell me.

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm


	8. Beds and Betrayal

**chiefhow**-Yep, the MRC monster is surprisingly frequent in my writing.

**lindalee4**-A million marshmallows? Oh, you are very, very nice...

**BillieLiv**-I like writing torture for some truly sordid reason...Hey, if there was such a thing as the Person Most Likely to Serve Time award on this site, it would probably be me (I'm so proud!)

**SunsetSparrow**-Thank you!

**Camreyn**-Nice long review! Yes, my science teacher seems to enjoy giving us strange and bizarre organs to look at. For the rest of the lesson, we stared at slides of rat's throats and hearts. Fun...

Yeah, I wouldn't expect you to know DreamTheater. That song came out in 1992, and I only know it because my Dad is a huge fan of vintage coughcrapcough songs, and that is the only one I like. I'm writing Guinevere as a bitch, but she does have a heart, I promise. It's just culture. As you read this, I'm writing a scene with Aibhilín, Taidhg and Lancelot. Oh, the suspense...

P.S I've been studying Celtic Wicca for ages, so I've learnt stuff like Breaca sith when studying.

For lindalee4, I'm writing a quick character profile for each of the girls

**Ealusaid**

Age: 19

Hair colour: Chestnut brown

Eye colour: Grey

Weapon of choice: Daggers

Character summary: Nurturing and balanced

Most likely to say: Killer and healer go hand in hand.

**Aibhilín**

Age: 18

Hair colour: Black

Eye colour: Green

Weapon of choice: Bow

Character summary: Sensitive, open-minded, dreamy

Most likely to say: Whatever I do, I should always follow my heart

**Guinevere**

Age: 17

Hair colour: Brown-black

Eye colour: Brown

Weapon of choice: Sword

Character summary: Rigid, protective, finds it hard to accept change.

Most likely to say: My way or the highway

**Leofwen**

Age: 19

Hair colour: Pale blond

Eye colour: Blue

Weapon of choice: Sword

Character summary: Sharp, threatening and hot-tempered

Most likely to say: Want to fight?

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm

**VIII: Beds and Betrayal**

_Deceit is the second without end_

Bishop Germanius came out, a fake smile plastered on his face. "Alecto!" he greeted Honorius's offspring warmly. At least Alecto looked as uncomfortable as everyone else felt.

His servant stared at the three Woad women on horseback. His lip curled slightly.

"God help us" someone whispered. "What are they?"

"Blue demons that eat Christians alive. You're not a Christian, are you?"

Leofwen smiled slightly at Bors as he said that. Leofwen had never yet cared what anyone thought of her, and she wasn't about to start now.

Arthur moved up to the bishop until he was almost on top of him. "Bishop Germanius" he said quietly, yet it held a lot of malice. "Friend of my father"

Germanius looked uneasy. "Ah yes" He motioned for his servant to come forward, bearing a wooden box. He opened it, and inside lay the deeds that made the knights free men.

The deeds that could take Lancelot away from Aibhilín forever.

Lucan came out of the wagon and ran to Dagonet's body, which was hanging limply off of a horse. The Roman soldiers tried to stop them, but a few threatening gestures from Leofwen, Aibhilín and Guinevere made them stop. He stared at him, paying his last respects in a manor which was above his years. Bors came over, and pressed the ring which Aibhilín had saved for him into Lucan's hand. Lancelot went to him, and tried to push the scroll into his hand.

"Take it Bors. For Dagonet" he tried to persuade him.

"This doesn't make him a free man! He's already free!" Bors countered. He stormed off into the fort. The other knights took their deeds, but they struggled to keep their raging anger under control; Leofwen could sense that in every sight and sound. Lancelot looked into the box and pulled a paper out. He crumpled it in his hand and went into the fort. Aibhilín slipped off the horse that she was riding alongside Guinevere and followed him through the gate.

"Lancelot!" she called after him. "Lancelot, wait!"

He paused. "Aibhilín"

"Take your deed and go. You have suffered enough for fifteen years. Do not throw this away so rashly"

Lancelot looked at her surprise and hurt on his face. "Are you so ready to get rid of me?" he asked.

Aibhilín crossed her arms. "Of course not. You know what I said; wherever you go I go"

Lancelot looked at her, her green eyes wide and clear. "I'm sorry"

Aibhilín stared at him. "All I am saying is that this deed is your freedom. With it, you can go anywhere and do anything"

Lancelot stared at her. "What about you? Can you go anywhere and do anything?"

"If I choose to" Aibhilín told him firmly. She leaned in and embraced him.

Suddenly, a sound from the wall alerted them all to the outer fort. Aibhilín was running almost immediately, and Lancelot followed. They climbed up the wall and stood, staring over the plain. Aibhilín slipped in next to Guinevere and stared down at the ground. A massive army of Saxons was camped there. Leofwen stood there stonily faced, and Guinevere slipped her small hand in Aibhilín's. Aibhilín cast a glance around at the knights. Tristan's hand went to his sword, the look on Bors face turned sour and Gawain and Galahad seemed astonished. Lancelot just stared, as if he was trying hard not to think about what was coming next.

Arthur turned to the knights sadly. "My brave knights, my journey with you ends here"

"You stay?" Gawain said incredulously.

"I stay" Arthur said firmly but sadly. He turned and walked down the steps of the wall. Lancelot called after him, following him down. "Arthur!" He called. "Why do you do this when freedom is so close?"

Arthur still walked, talking over his shoulder to Lancelot. "You who know me best of all would ask me that?"

"For our friendship's sake, please...do not do this"

Guinevere walked down and followed Lancelot. "Arthur, please stay this madness"

Arthur said nothing but kept walking. "Arthur!" Lancelot tried again. Arthur seemed to snap.

"For our friendship's sake, take your freedom and live it for me, for I must do what my heart feels is right. I can not follow you, Lancelot." He said firmly.

Lancelot stopped short and Aibhilín came down. She stood beside him. "You must let him go" she murmured, knowing that the words might apply to her as well.

Leofwen sat in the courtyard with the knights. Everyone was solemn, but certainly not sober. The beer was disappearing at an alarming rate.

"To freedom" Galahad said, breaking the silence. Eight tankards clinked together.

"So where will you go now?" Tristan asked Leofwen.

"Oh, hither and thither. Nowhere in particular" Leofwen said lightly. "I suppose we'll return to our tribe, prepare for Aibhilín's wedding" She stared at Aibhilín meaningfully, in a way that Aibhilín did not miss.

"Aibhilín's wedding?" Someone asked, but they were ignored.

"Which isn't going to happen" Aibhilín said suddenly. Everyone turned to her.

"Did you see that, or are you wishing that it was true?" Guinevere said, with just a little ice in it.

"I don't lie about my gift" Aibhilín said equally icily.

"What gift?"

"The gift of prophecy. Imbas" Leofwen said, keeping her eyes fixed on Aibhilín.

"The gifts the gods gave me I use in either battle or bed" Gawain said, and got a small grunt of laughter in return. That broke the tension a little.

Aibhilín glared at Leofwen. She at least had the shame to turn away. Aibhilín let out one long gentle hiss of a breath and stared at the ground

"Who's with Bors?" Guinevere asked.

"Vanora and the eleven bastards"

"I thought it was twelve now"

"Nah, it's eleven"

Guinevere gave a smile. Tristan turned to Leofwen. "Got any more dagger tricks?"

"One or two" Leofwen smiled. She pulled her dagger out of her belt, and suddenly stuck it into the table, causing the tankards to jump. She wrenched it out and started twisting it, turning it into a living blur of silver. She made it fly up into the air only to land perfectly in her grasp. Suddenly it was back in the groove she had made earlier. She paused only long enough to let what had happened sink in. Then, it was moving again. No living eye could keep up with it. It disappeared abruptly. "Where is it?" she asked.

"Stuck in somewhere?"

Leofwen turned. "Stuck the back of my belt where I always keep it" She sat down and drained her tankard.

"I have never seen anyone with as much skill with a dagger as you" Tristan said honestly.

"It's only something me and Ealusaid made up to relieve the boredom of training" Leofwen said modestly. "And anyway, the daggers are her weapon of choice. I prefer the sword"

Tristan picked up her dagger. Runes were carved down the centre. "What do these mean?" he asked.

Leofwen smiled regretfully. "I have the second dagger, Ealusaid has the first and last"

"First and last what?"

"Dances. Death, deceit and love. They all cancel each other out eventually"

"I haven't had enough ale for that philosophical stuff" Gawain complained.

"Ah, you know what they say" Lancelot put in. "Once you've had enough drink, women and fighting the meaning of life becomes crystal clear"

Aibhilín watched. She felt like she was floating above the knights, and was not really there. Her minds eye drifted to a battlefield. There were enemies. Everyone she had ever killed was coming at her with a weapon. She waited for the last blow to fall, the blow that would kill her. It never fell. Instead, the weapons went straight into the hearts of everyone she cared about.

Suddenly, she felt like an arrow had hit her in the chest. She gasped aloud, unable to help herself.

"Aibhilín?" came a voice from above her. She could hear it, and yet she could not focus on it.

"I'm fine" she forced herself to say. She forced herself to focus, even though the pain almost blinded her. "I'll be fine. I think I just need rest. My wounds ache"

"Come, I'll look at them. We can check on Ealusaid at the same time" Guinevere offered, and the two women left. Guinevere tilted her head slightly, and out of the corner of her eyes she could see Lancelot's eyes following Aibhilín as she left.

Aibhilín settled in a bed. She was used to sleeping wrapped in a cloak under the stars (and sometimes without the cloak). This stone walled room with its stuffed bed and filmy curtains was completely foreign to her. She climbed out of the bed crammed with the feathers from innocent birds, and lay her cloak on the floor. She rolled onto it and slept. She slept deeply, and then drifted into the realm of dreams.

_Death. So much death. The fields are stained with it. Sometimes I know whose it is. Sometimes I can see a body. Mostly I can just feel it. Why am I alive? Why am I the only person who is alive? This was not meant to be. I should be there too, oh Goddess this hurts so much. The three dances; death, deceit and the eternal dance...they all have come full circle. I lie down and then I die_

Aibhilín sat up. The moonlight was shining directly on her face, and she could see the darkness outside. It must have been between midnight and dawn. The night breeze was cool and she shivered slightly.

_Come to me, Aibhilín_

The wind whispered elusively to her. She sat up, and listened.

_Come, come to me_

Aibhilín crawled out of her cloak, and opened the door. The hallways were silent as the tomb. She padded along, her footsteps making no noise on the floor.

_Come, come _

She paused at a fork in the hallways. Listening to the mysterious voice, she took the left fork. On the walls were rooms and rooms. She started to wonder if she'd taken the wrong fork, but the voice spoke again, ever louder.

_Aibhilín, I'm waiting_

The strongest feeling came from the door on her immediate left. She twisted the doorknob, and looked in.

"Aibhilín?" he asked.

"Couldn't sleep" he said. "What about you?"

"Something similar" she said dryly. She moved and sat by him. "What was keeping you up?"

Lancelot sighed. "Most of the knights are leaving here for Sarmatia tomorrow"

Aibhilín understood. "And you don't know if you should go with them"

Lancelot nodded. "I've been longing for my homeland for fifteen years"

"But this is Arthur" Aibhilín breathed softly. "You do not want to leave him to certain slaughter"

Lancelot hung his head. Aibhilín's heart went out to him. She knew only to well the feeling of being split in two opposite directions. She leaned over and pushed his heads up with her hand. "Whatever you decide, no-one will blame you" she murmured. She placed her lips on his for an icy kiss, like the first one they had shared. Lancelot's fire melted her ice, and it dripped off her lips like jewels. She let her hands move downwards, so that they travelled from his neck to his lower back. He gently pushed her back so that she was lying on the bed. He was lying next to her, and they still kissed, Aibhilín moved herself into him, so close that she could feel the heat on his body. She could feel every little movement of his body, and every little motion was mimicked involuntarily by her body. She wanted desperately to be a part of him, to be with him, to memorise every inch of his skin. She felt herself slip out of her pure white shift, and she felt Lancelot's eyes upon her. She helped him out of his tunic and let herself tumble into passion.

Pain. Nothing but an ocean of pain. She knew that she was not where she was when she had fallen, but she was still in a similar place. It had taken her too long to walk back through the door, and now, she was back, in her fire of pain. She struggled to open her eyes. The room swam into focus, and a voice called her back.

"Ealusaid?" Guinevere said incredulously. She went over. "You're awake"

"Did it take you that long?" Ealusaid teased.

"We almost thought that you had passed into Emania-the realm of the dead"

"What day is it?"

"The eighteenth day of Nion, the Ash month" Guinevere informed her.

"I have been asleep too long" Ealusaid said firmly. She tried to get up, and managed it with only a minimal amount of pain. "Am I healed?"

Guinevere looked a little apprehensive, as if she knew Ealusaid would not like what she was about to say. "We hope" she whispered.

Ealusaid's eyes widened. "So you're not sure?"

Guinevere nodded her head. Ealusaid gave an icy smile. "I'll live, I promise"

Guinevere nodded. "I know that you are not going to like this, but you should..."

"Sleep and rest" Ealusaid intoned along with her.

Guinevere smiled. "Exactly" She administered a valerian root tea, and stayed until Ealusaid slept.

Guinevere left the room, realising that she had nowhere to go. She did not want to disturb Ealusaid or Aibhilín, she didn't particularly want to go back to the knights and she did not want to sleep. She wandered off in a random direction, through the endless mass of corridors. She thought that she could remember the way back to the courtyard, but it proved to be harder than she thought. Usually she remembered ways by landmarks, such as trees, shrubs and signs. These corridors with door after door of rooms seemed to be a world away from that. She travelled along the corridor and as she turned the corner she ran into a strong bulk.

"I'm sorry" she stammered. The man turned around, and she saw the weather-beaten face of Arthur.

"My apologies" he said. Guinevere stared straight up into his face. It was care-worn and lined beyond his years.

"There is something troubling you" she said.

Arthur looked slightly surprised. "You are very perceptive"

"We're warriors. It is good to be able to judge your enemy"

"Do you think of me as an enemy then?" Arthur asked her quietly.

"No, never" Guinevere answered honestly. "I could sense that you were a good man"

Arthur smiled. "They say that Aibhilín is understanding, but I would say that Guinevere is more so"

Guinevere smiled, but her smile wore off slightly. "You still haven't told me what is troubling you"

"I shall add determined to the list of words to describe you"

Guinevere stared at him dryly "As Aibhilín will testify, I have already broken a man's arm, leg and jaw. Do not make me add anymore"

Arthur turned away slightly. "You are afraid" Guinevere said, stating the obvious.

Arthur started to nod his head, but then he shook it. "Yes-well no. I am afraid, but for the knights. I fear that they may follow me"

Guinevere caught his head and made sure that he could not avoid looking at her. "They have been following you for fifteen years. It is hard to let go now"

Arthur looked at her. "You are very wise"

Guinevere stared at him "What tomorrow brings, we cannot know" she breathed. She let her mouth be guided to his, but she did not let herself think. She just enjoyed the moment.

When Ealusaid awoke, it was night and she was alone. She opened her mouth, and realised how dry it was. She struggled upright, and looked around her room. There was a basin, but the pitcher was not there. Ealusaid left the room, and slipped out into the open.

The night air was cool, and she shivered slightly in her shift. It was good though. It was more natural. She leaned against the wall. She hated being enclosed, locked into a room every night in stifling heat. The only thing that never changed was the stars. Being under them reminded her a little of her usual life; under the stars every night and feeling the moonlight on her skin.

She twisted her head slightly, and she saw Galahad walking up behind her. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Shhh" Ealusaid whispered. "If Guinevere or Leofwen find out, I'm as good as dead"

"What are you doing here anyway?" Galahad asked.

"Thinking" Ealusaid tilted her head upwards. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking" Galahad said quickly. Ealusaid smiled and looked upwards.

"You can only think properly alone" she said, but she hastily added. "Or when it's quiet"

"Imagine what a lovely, quiet place the world would be if everyone had their throats slit" Galahad said, and Ealusaid laughed a little.

"Want to start now?" she said. "I'll let you have the Bishop"

Galahad's smile turned a little icy. "I don't kill for pleasure"

Ealusaid looked surprised. "You ought to try"

"So everyone keeps telling me" Galahad muttered. He looked at her. "You don't strike me as a person who kills for pleasure"

Ealusaid gave another slight smile. "I don't kill for pleasure, I just get a lot of pleasure out of the kill"

Galahad smiled.

Ealusaid's eyes widened a little as she saw Leofwen walking out of the fort. Galahad started to turn, and desperately Ealusaid grabbed his head. She leaned in and kissed him. Keeping her eyes opened, she waited until Leofwen had slipped out of a side door. She then pulled away and melted away into the shadows. Ealusaid slipped out to meet Leofwen. She had already disappeared around the corner, and by the time Ealusaid had caught up with her, she could see the waiting shapes of Aibhilín and Guinevere.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Dauídh is close. He left us signs along the way, when you were in the death sleep" Guinevere explained.

"Has everyone but me crawled into someone's bed tonight?" Leofwen said exasperatedly.

"I haven't quite" Ealusaid said with a small blush on her face.

"Guilty" Aibhilín said, holding up a hand. There was life in her face, the sort of life that hadn't been there for months.

After a pause, Guinevere held up her hand too. "Now that, I didn't expect" Leofwen said teasingly. "Tell us who"

Guinevere whispered the name so softly that you shouldn't have thought that they would hear it. They did however, and Leofwen let out a burst of laughter. "You don't do things by halves, do you?"

They saw shapes form around them. They were back with their people, yet in many ways they wished they were back in the fort.

* * *

Review please. I am steadily eating my way through a packet of Polos and a bar of Dairy Milk. Reviews will stop me gorging. Please save me from myself...

Oh, but I did get an early birthday present! My dad bought me a domain name . It's not fully up yet, but it will be soon. Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me...even though my birthday's not for like a month. Oh well, I'll be fifteen soon! Sorry, I'm babbling...r/r people, you know the drill.

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm


	9. Sisters and Secrets

**lindalee4**-A billion Skittles? Wow, you're generous...Glad the bios were useful, it helped me as well.

**Camreyn-**Glad that you're addicted to my story. Thank you for the happy birthday, even though my birthday isn't until the 2nd October. I'm going to try and finish the story on that day, just for proper closure. Ealusaid and Galahad were just for interest, and also I wanted Galahad to get some action...Leofwen...meh. She's not so much of a show-off as that she doesn't trust the knights, and she wants to prove that she's not just someone to be tricked into bed. Betrayal...Guinevere's betrayal of her beliefs (sleeping with Arthur) Aibhilín's betrayal of her friends (sleeping with Lancelot) and Leofwen's betrayal of Aibhilín (she's forcing the wedding reality on her) Lancelot and Aibhilín's special connection? Oh, I'm not giving away my plot...

I'm very annoyed with you all. Only two reviews? Shame on you all! Actually, I don't blame you; Chapter 7 wasn't exactly my best work. This one is short, but I've been busy, OK?

Also, I expect to find lots of lovely reviews after you read this. This story was meant to only be 12 chapters long but...I've extended it INDEFINATELY. Are you happy? Well, then you know how to make me happy...read/review, same as usual.

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm

**IX: Sisters and Secrets**

_The third arrives..._

_Before the leaves have fallen  
Before we lock the doors  
There must be a third and last dance  
This one will last forever_

Leofwen looked around. It was good to be back. She stared at the blue-painted bodies around her, recognising brother, cousin and friends.

"Rossa!" she shouted. She ran over and threw her arms around a man you deserved his name. His hair was a dark red, and his eyes were brown. He hugged her back.

"I thought you were dead" he said.

"I thought you were dead!" Leofwen said back. She shook away a few joyful tears and pulled away. "What of "gáin? And of Mór?"

Rossa shook his head. "Dead. When we lost you and Ealusaid, we ran into the Saxons. I only survived because the scouts found me".

Leofwen bowed her head. "A blessed rebirth for our fallen friends" she murmured. She raised her head. "Rossa, where is Dauídh?"

"Waiting for you" he said, gesturing deeper into the woods. Leofwen smiled gratefully, and she made her way through the throng of people; Ealusaid by her side and the sisters just ahead. A wizened old shape formed out of the trees, and they knelt down automatically to receive his blessing. He bade them rise, and they did. He studied them. Leofwen looked the same as she always did; long blond hair and steely blue eyes. Ealusaid was still pale and thinner than usual, but her grey eyes were still kind and strong. It was Guinevere and Aibhilín that had changed the most. Guinevere externally looked the same, but her eyes held a strange secret to them They were shadowed by a spirit of her warrior self, shielding some deep mystery. Aibhilín was strangely disconnected, as if she was not really here.. In some respects, she wasn't. She was leaving a piece of her behind in another place. Finally, his daughters were all together.

Aibhilín gasped. A surprised expression crossed her face, which was unusual for her. "Is that true?"

Dauídh stared at her curiously. "Did you just hear that?"

Aibhilín shook her head. "I saw it. You, and all four of us, our blood together"

Ealusaid stayed calm, but Guinevere and Leofwen seemed to freeze. "What?" Leofwen asked in the tone that all of them feared. It was the tone she used when talking to lusty boys, enemies and all people that she wanted to mutilate violently.

"You are all my daughters" Dauídh stated calmly.

There was a very pregnant pause. Ealusaid was calm looking, and Aibhilín did not miss her look. Something had happened...Ealusaid knew.

Leofwen and Guinevere were looking livid, but underneath Guinevere's expression of anger lay some strange sense of pleasure. She wanted to have sisters, but not like this.

"Why?" Aibhilín asked in a harsh voice, so unlike her. "Why were we not told?"

"It was right-" Guinevere cut him off.

"What was right about keeping us from each other? We are friends, but maybe something better could have happened if we were sisters"

Dauídh looked at her expressionlessly. "Leofwen and Ealusaid were born before I married your mother. She did not want two illegitimate daughters to bring up. Besides, your respective mothers wanted to bring you up themselves. They decided not to tell you, so that you would have the chance to grow up and separate from me, Aibhilín and Guinevere. They did not know how you would react"

There was another pause, and then Guinevere spoke. "So...what is it that we have to do?" The coldness of words surprised her.

"Make the decision" Dauídh said calmly. "Either we fight or we do not"

"Why must we choose?" Ealusaid asked.

"Because you know the knights better than anyone. You must decide"

The sisters looked at each other. Guinevere and Aibhilín knew what they would do, but Leofwen's face was set. "It's their funeral. Why waste so many lives for a cause not ours?" she asked.

"That's what they've been doing for fifteen years. Surely we can spare them this one battle?" Guinevere snapped back.

"We should" Aibhilín backed her up. "If we can save Arthur than we will have an ally forever"

Everyone turned to Ealusaid. "What?"

"Cast a vote; yea or nay"

Ealusaid thought about it. "We should" she insisted. "This is their chance for freedom, and I for one do not want them to leave knowing the bloodshed that they left behind. They should not live their lives in shame and guilt"

Leofwen turned to them. "If you three are so hell-bent on suicide, I might as well help" She drew out her dagger. "Besides, I want a Saxon blade for my collection"

Ealusaid smiled. She and Leofwen had an ongoing competition where for every enemy they killed, they took their dagger. That was how they received the three blades of the dances.

"So, how are we going to plan this?" Guinevere asked.

"Easy. We hide in the trees, veiled in traditional Woad style, the Saxons come from one side, Arthur's on the other and we pincer them"

"There isn't any cover on the other side. If Arthur were on Badon Hill, then we would have to go round and attack from the other side. It would not work"

"Then we'll be the backup. He's there, and as they come to meet him, we use our bows to slay a few Saxons and then we can charge when they are close enough"

"We are going to need some Sarmatian bows then. That way they won't be able to reach us"

"I would not worry. I do not think they are competent archers by any stretch of the imagination" Leofwen snickered.

Guinevere caught sight of Dauídh, who had a strangely proud smile on his face. He caught sight of her glance. "You are all very competent at this"

"Well, we have been fighting for a long time" Leofwen said. Dauídh was personally considered too precious and old to fight, but even when Guinevere was born he was generally a pacifist. Aibhilín and Guinevere had had to fight for the chance to be able to fight.

"More than that. You can work together, as true sisters" Dauídh said. "Sometime I know that I will die. And then, the four of you can rule over the tribe"

The sisters smiled, but Aibhilín's smile faded. If she were to be a tribal leader, than her wedding would probably come through faster. She could have the power to break it off, but that would most likely result in Bhrain or Taidhg deserting the tribe. If that happened they could all be overthrown, and even killed. She turned away to avoid looking at her sisters, and she could see a faint pinkish line on the horizon.

"Dawn is breaking" she said as a warning and as a distraction.

Ealusaid looked to where she was pointing, "We need to get back to the wall"

They knelt and left, running through the clearing. Leofwen paused to speak with Rossa.

"Will you be ready to fight?" she asked, indicating his wounds.

"I'll be ready, I promise you" he grinned. She hugged him and ran for the wall. They walked in silence, each one of them wanting to talk but not knowing how. As they neared the wall, she started to whisper furiously. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Ealusaid moaned softly. She did not question how Aibhilín knew. "My mother told me. She never exactly forgave Dauídh for letting me be his bastard and not you two"

"Yeah, we noticed that she doesn't like him very much" Leofwen commented.

"So you didn't know?" Guinevere addressed Leofwen.

"No. I never even suspected it" Leofwen said.

They were drawing ever closer to the wall. The sisters slipped in the gate and stood together silently in the courtyard. They stared at each other; Guinevere and Aibhilín's eyes locking again.

"You two have business to deal with; we get it. Go" Ealusaid flapped her hands. "I should probably apologise to Galahad" She left with her sisters, leaving Leofwen behind.

"Seems that having a bedmate is the only way to get attention around here" she mumbled to herself.

Aibhilín separated from her sisters and walked along the hallway. She pushed the door open and saw her sleeping lover. He was lying on his back, and he looked so peaceful. Aibhilín dropped her cloak and tried to make it seem like she had been there all the time. She sat down on the bed, and at the small movement Lancelot jumped awake. He looked around and his eye fell on Aibhilín.

"You are too much of a warrior to fall for that" Aibhilín breathed softly. Lancelot struggled to get up, twisting around to look at Aibhilín directly.

"Where were you?" he asked.

"Something to know about Woad tribes? They have very bad timing" Aibhilín informed him. "They just wanted to ask us what our plans were for tomorrow"

"Plans?"

Aibhilín could not look at him when she said what she said next. "Battle plans"

"You're staying then" His voice was blank and empty.

"I want to" she said in an equally blank tone. "I have to. I need to stay"

Lancelot looked down. "I feel like a coward"

"Do not" Aibhilín assured him. "Fifteen years of bravery and loyalty do not make you a coward"

Lancelot smiled at her, but another thought nagged at his mind. "Is this a goodbye then?"

Aibhilín stared to shake her head, but stopped. "I don't know" she told him frankly. "I want to say that there is no such thing as a goodbye between lovers, but if you go to Sarmatia and I stay here-" she broke off. Lancelot drew her to him and she lay facing him, her face an inch away from his.

"I cannot see a way out of this" she said quietly. Lancelot kissed her.

"What if I were to stay here-"

"No. I am staying with my people because I have to. You are a free man and you are going to stay a free man, not a dead one"

"Already ordering me about?" Lancelot teased her.

"It's only natural" Aibhilín told him. She leaned in even closer to him. "I am not going to watch you die. Please, go to Sarmatia. If you come back, I'll still be here"

"I'll hold you to that" Lancelot promised her. He kissed her again. Aibhilín gracefully entwined her body with his, wanting to seek comfort from him. She felt the heat rise, and she wanted to preserve this moment, like a chunk of amber. She looked at the blood which had fallen from her body, knowing that more blood would be spilt today, under less enjoyable circumstances.

* * *

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm


	10. War I

Only three reviews? I'm insulted! Oh well...

**Camreyn**-You and lindalee4 are now my favourite reviewers for many reasons; lindalee4 because she always offers me sweets (greedy Chiara!), and you because not only have you reviewed every chapter, but you also give me long and inspiring reviews. Skeletons in Leofwen's closet? This has sparked an idea for a whole other story...keep you posted on that. Bug me enough about Tristan, and I may let him live...

**Katie Moore**-Does he die? Read on and find out...

**lindalee4**-Thank you! I like to be your first twice-reviewed fanfiction...Please don't go to a CSFFA group-ChiaraStorm FanFiction Anonymous group! Please keep reviewing as well! Have you seen my above comments about you?

You know I was complaining a lot about Biology and formaldehyde? Well yesterday I had another treat...watching my teacher dissect a pig's organs! I nearly threw up when she hacked a ring of cartilage off and wore it on her finger, second only to when she held the trachea up and it was covered in hanging bits of meat and fatty strings. I left the room and almost threw up in the toilet. I have been a vegetarian for almost eight years now but if I wasn't before, I would be now. Please, avert my nauseous feelings and review!

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm

**X: War I**

_Metropolis watches and thoughtfully smiles  
She's taken you to your home_

_It can only take place  
When the struggle between our children has ended_

Ealusaid sat on the wall. Her head was spinning and she was hoping that the air would restore her natural calm. She let the breeze flow over her skin and sink into her brain, letting it cool and soothe her. She had to get into a state of mind where she was ready to kill Saxons-not hard, well, not usually. But today was different. The air tasted of electricity and hostility, and she was tense. She wanted to let go, forget everything except the terrible joy of battle. Today, it was hard to do that. It was so tough. There was more than her sister's lives at stake here.

Somehow she found herself standing up. She was balanced right over the parapet and watched the Saxons intently.

Leofwen crept up behind her. "They're very ugly, aren't they?" Their braided beards reminded her a little of Tristan, but they were ugly, with contempt curling about their features. One of them in particular made her heart freeze. She hid it well, but it scared her more than she'd ever felt before. She did not have Aibhilín's gift of Imbas, but she had a feeling of dread. She forced herself to listen to Ealusaid's answer.

"No worse than anyone else" Ealusaid shrugged.

"A bit like Griogair"

Ealusaid laughed. Griogair was a boy in the tribes, who, at some point had become infatuated with Leofwen. He was short and boorish, even then, and Leofwen had tried to be kind and still try to make him understand. He was apparently slow-witted too, and Leofwen had resorted to being very blunt, which was extremely forthright in everyone else's language. He had carved his name next to her name into a tree near their encampment, and Leofwen had spent years trying to file it off. When they moved camp, Leofwen had sighed.

"Thank the Goddess I don't have to keep worrying about someone asking if I love that stupid hog of a boy Griogair"

Upon hearing that, Griogair had soon lost his infatuation with her.

Ealusaid tried to steer the conversation back into sensible waters.

"We need to leave the wall, before they see"

"Why oh why then did we even bother coming back?" Leofwen grumbled.

"So that the lovers can love" Ealusaid teased. They walked down to the ground.

"How did your own talk go with Galahad?" Leofwen asked in a singsong voice.

"Nothing I'm going to tell you about"

"I'm the elder sister, and I command you to tell"

"Even when we weren't sisters, I wouldn't have told you"

"How long have you known that we were sisters?" Leofwen asked her after a pause.

"Nearly all my life" Ealusaid admitted.

"It must have been hard to keep the secret"

"It was" Ealusaid said softly.

They reached the ground and found Lancelot, Aibhilín, Arthur and Guinevere waiting for them. Arthur turned to them.

"Thank you" he said. "And your people"

Ealusaid nodded courteously. "It is what we should do"

"And we'll enjoy it" Leofwen put in. Everyone smiled a little, but they were fake. They were all scared; it was just that everyone had had a decade and a half (give or take) of hiding it.

Lancelot protectively pulled Aibhilín closer to him, and Aibhilín didn't stop him. She wanted time to stop, to preserve this moment forever. She wasn't sure that she could cope with this aching feeling of loss and regret. She had to stop. She was a Woad, and Woads fought. She could not fight feeling like this. She had to disassociate herself from all that was around her.

Guinevere reached for her hand, and Aibhilín put her slim paw in hers. She walked away, and only looked back once. She had seen the world in Lancelot's eyes once. Now, she saw it again. She drowned in it.

"We need to go" Ealusaid nudged her gently. Aibhilín walked, hating herself for taking each step.

They made it out past the wall, and then Leofwen turned on her. "What was that? I've never seen you so unexcited about a battle"

"You know why" Ealusaid told her.

"So? This is our opportunity to kill a few Saxons"

"Just because you've got the emotional capacity of a spider doesn't meant that we all have" Guinevere snarled at her; Leofwen stuck out her tongue at her.

"Besides, if she gets killed Lancelot might just kill himself in a fit of passion"

"You really do have the emotional capacity of a spider don't you?"

Aibhilín ignored them, but she was secretly pleased. This was teasing, not the nagging that she'd been getting ever since they'd met the knights. "Are you supporting my love now?"

She saw a shadow of a glance pass between them. "Well-" Leofwen began.

"Umm-"

"Ahh-"

Aibhilín slapped Leofwen lightly on the arm. "Tell all, pray"

Ealusaid caught Aibhilín and stopped her walking. "I just want you to know I had no part in this"

"In what?" Aibhilín asked, her suspicions aroused.

Guinevere sighed. "Before we left, Dauídh told me that if anything...odd happened to you-"

"Something brilliant like falling in love?" Aibhilín said sarcastically.

"-we had to make sure that you remembered your culture and not become a knight's whore" She threw up her hands as if to ward off her sister's anger. "His words not mine"

"What!" Aibhilín cried. "On whose orders?"

"Dauídh" Guinevere put an arm around her sister. "We are so sorry. We decided last night that we had to tell you"

"Sorry!" Aibhilín exclaimed "You tried to sabotage the best thing that ever happened to me and you're sorry!"

"Our whole lives we have been following Dauídh's orders. You too. Do you change that now?"

"I follow them, though not blindly" Aibhilín countered. "I can think for myself"

"Dauídh could have you banished from the tribe for this" Guinevere reminded her. "You would never be able to return to your own people again"

"If you are an example of my people then I wish that I could leave them"

A warning bell was set off inside Ealusaid. She could feel Aibhilín's sincerity-it rang out in every syllable of her words. It was final, complete.

It was a verdict of banishment.

Leofwen tried to turn her to them so that they could look her in the eye, but Aibhilín wriggled out of her grasp, and fled through the forest

Back in the camp, they all separated. Aibhilín applied her blue war paint alone, in a clearing away from the main tribe. So far she had not talked to anyone, especially not Dauídh. She heard shuffling footsteps from behind her. She knew who it was.

"Why?" she asked.

"I was scared for you" he told her honestly. "I did not want you to change the course of your own destiny"

"Maybe it was meant to be changed" she said in a tone of equal calm.

Dauídh shook his head. "I have seen your future Aibhilín. It does not lie with him"

"Then that destiny is wrong"

He caught her by her shoulders. "Listen to me, daughter! He is fated to die. You cannot change that"

She was shaking and she couldn't stop. "That does not mean I'm not going to try"

Dauídh sighed, and left her, not saying anything to her or looking back. Aibhilín tried to apply her paint, but her hand was shaking badly. She put down the beaker and paced about just for something to do. Finally, she sat down, buried her head in her hands and sobbed.

Guinevere made her way out of the undergrowth. She put her arms around Aibhilín and rocked her slightly.

"Why does everyone want to hurt me?" her sister wept. Guinevere shushed her, but Aibhilín broke out of her embrace and threw a stone at a tree trunk as a way to release her anger. It pinged off and disappeared into the undergrowth.

Guinevere stood up and stood by her sister in silence.

"Why does no one opposed you and Arthur?" Aibhilín asked, not unkindly, but merely curiously.

Guinevere shrugged. "Dauídh must have seen that it is my destiny" She winced on the tactlessness of her words, but then again, Woads were not renowned for diplomacy.

"Why is being with Lancelot not my destiny?" Aibhilín, a warrior who never cried was again on the verge of tears. "It feels so...right"

Guinevere made her sister look at her. "I believe that you can make your own destiny. If you belong with Lancelot, then you will be with him"

Aibhilín smiled at Guinevere. "Thank you" She hugged her sister. She was glad that she had the old Guinevere back, not the one who opposed Aibhilín's judgement. When Guinevere pulled away, she picked up the paint. "I'll finish you"

Aibhilín stood up straight. She was a warrior. Love had no place on a blood-strewn battlefield.

Ealusaid watched and waited as the last procession of knights left the fort. They were all sombre and solemn, with no-one talking or joking.

Bors looked around. "I can't take this" he muttered (even though Ealusaid could not see or hear this) He pulled his horse out of the line and galloped up the hill towards his commander. Ealusaid gasped. She had not been expecting that.

There was a rustle of leaves, and Leofwen threw herself down next to her sister. "I've been keeping guard for ages. What happened?"

"Bors went to fight with Arthur"

"Is he crazy?" Leofwen said. "He's got freedom. Vanora. And eleven bastards!"

"More are going"

Leofwen squinted. "Oh no. Is Lancelot going?"

Ealusaid nodded. Leofwen sighed, then stiffened as a new though came to her. "If Aibhilín sees that, she's going to die"

"She's not the only one"

Both girls left to prepare for bloodshed, unable to stare any longer at the funeral procession.

The four sisters stood in front of the line of Woads. They were wearing leather outfits that allowed for maximum mobility, with quivers and sword slung across their backs. Every inch of their bodies were flecked with blue war paint in swirling and intricate symbols of power, bloodlust and survival.

Leofwen seemed to be leading everyone. She stood there, hands around her bow, ready but her body was relaxed. Ealusaid was her usual calm self, her eyes seemingly fixated on the enemy and Arthur, but she was keeping a sisterly eye on Aibhilín too. Guinevere was tense, stiffened with the bloodlust that swirled in her veins. Aibhilín was the only one who seemed nervous.

Aibhilín looked up, and studied the horizon. Ealusaid and Leofwen braced themselves for an outburst, but she merely dropped her gaze and the grip on her bow tightened. Leofwen could feel the increased tension in the air, and also Aibhilín's need. She looked over at Ealusaid. "If he dies, she dies" she mouthed to Ealusaid.

A sudden movement made them all turn. Arthur was standing, ready as the Saxon's charged.

"Archers, fire!" Leofwen yelled. The first rank of archers fired, while the second loaded. The first ducked and the second fired, giving the first a chance to reload. The result was a steady hail of arrows.

The arrows helped, but did not stop the onslaught of Saxons.

"Bows away" Leofwen commanded. She pulled out her sword, and held it lovingly, almost praying for a nice amount of Saxons to kill. She suddenly swung it aloft-that was the symbol.

They all charged, Aibhilín included. She let the bloodlust rise and take her whole. She was ready to kill now.

Leofwen was everywhere, plunging her sword into every Saxon she saw. Some tried to fight her, but they were slaughtered instantly. Her blade hummed through the air, slicing and stabbing as if it had a life as its own.

Ealusaid was everywhere and nowhere, completely invisible until your back was unprotected. Then she was there, making sure that you stayed alive even at risk to her.

Guinevere and Aibhilín fought back to back, taking no prisoners. Just having her oldest sister there made her feel confident. Powerful. It stopped her thinking and just made her forget everything.

She looked up, and gasped. She froze and received a gash across her chest as a result. She didn't feel the pain. She was so scared that she felt no pain, only a cold, still centre in the middle of her chest.

Lancelot was fighting for his life. He knew it, and Aibhilín knew it. She plunged a dirk into a particularly gorilla-like Saxon and tried to run over the battlefield to him, but another Saxon cuffed her from behind, and she fell back. Soon she was fighting for her life as well.

Leofwen thrust her dagger, in and out in a rhythmical dance. She looked up, and saw Aibhilín. She was winning her fight, which was remarkable. She cast a glance at Lancelot, and her eyes locked with Leofwen's. Her question was evident in her eyes.

A horde of voices raged inside Leofwen's head.

_Help Aibhilín_

_Help Lancelot_

_Save yourself_

_Aibhilín doesn't need help_

_But Lancelot does. _

_Can't we help them both?_

_Or neither? _

_She's my sister. What I do to him I do to her._

_Saving him saves Aibhilín. _

Leofwen hated herself for most of them, but she knew that the last voice was speaking the truth. She pulled out the dagger of the second dance.

She threw the deceitful dagger across the field.

It caught him in the throat. He choked, and fell back, dead. Lancelot fell back too, exhausted but breathing easily.

_Thank you_ Aibhilín's eyes spoke.

Leofwen realised that she was breaking an elementary rule of battle; she was standing still. She twisted around and was confronted by a reeking odour of sweat and grease. A huge Saxon was standing there, sword raised. Leofwen tried to pull out her own, not realising that she had thrown it away. She stared up at him helplessly.

Aibhilín knocked her assailant to the ground. She looked up, and breathed a sigh of relief that Lancelot was OK. She fought her way over to him, but a cry made her turn around suddenly. She caught sight of Leofwen, and her sister's fear was unmaskable. Leofwen's eyes were wide and scared and she was completely vacant, as if she could not decide whether to fight or flee.

She took too long to decide.

The Saxon drew his blade almost lazily across her throat. Leofwen put her hands to her throat, but she could not mask the blood that spurted over the field. Aibhilín felt bile rise in her throat as her sister's organs and blood sprayed forth. Aibhilín had watched death for years. In every battle there had been death. Just not like this. She watched horrified as her sister toppled forwards. The Saxon raised his sword and slashed it again across the back of her neck. Aibhilín could not stifle a gasp as the bon splintered loudly and more of her sister's blood coloured the battlefield. Leofwen's life force was ebbing away. She spluttered up blood and struggled to stay on her feet. Finally, Leofwen fell to the floor. Her spirit had left her body before she hit the ground.

* * *

I'm so horrible to my characters...

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm


	11. War II

Do you know what I've discovered? I think that most of you, naming no names coughElvenstar5cough need a course of anger management. Seriously. Oh well, I almost cried writing the first version of her death, but it was just romantic crap, oh she's dead, ah well, romantic crap, so I changed it for the more gory version (insert evil laugh here).

I honestly never knew so many people like Leofwen. She was never exactly my favourite character, but she's nicer in the last chapter. She's more human. And, by the way, the next chapter is based mainly on an idea that Camreyn gave me. If you like it, thank her!

**Veronica**-Good thing I didn't kill Gawain off in the last chapter, otherwise you'd be really angry! I'm glad you're addicted to my story-don't break the habit (lol)

**Chiefhow**-Of course vegetarians rock! I really seem to be surprising people with how I killed Leofwen. Thanks for the review!

**ChildlikeEmpress**-Really? I didn't feel like she was very real to me, but I'm glad you like her. I was considering making her and Tristan get together but it didn't seem right. If he died, I couldn't see Leofwen grieving, and if she died, I couldn't see Tristan grieving. I wasn't sure how it would work. Also, there's more to Leofwen than meets the eye...

**ElvenStar5-**It must have taken you ages to type the word 'evil' 45 times! (Also, I fear you will soon be very very very angry...

**Camreyn**-Really long review! You're just like me-you like to analyse every part of the chapter. You make me realise things I didn't know before about this fic. I think you know more about it than me! I loved the internal struggle the most of all. That part took only like two minutes to write because it all flowed really naturally. I thought that was Leofwen's character down perfectly. P.S Yeah, my teachers are very weird. Yours aren't? P.P.S Some of your other points will be answered in later chapters or now. I'm just in a rush. Thanks for reviewing so faithfully. CS

**Katie Moore**-Yep, grossing out people makes me very happy...joke!

**MonDieu666**-Thanks! Your fanfic's brilliant as well, I'm loving it!

**lindalee4**-'My fingers are speechless'...great line. Thanks for giving me a much needed laugh. I haven't depressed you too much, have I? I always wanted to kill someone off, as I like writing death, deceit and love scenes; they're the most emotional. I also was going to pair everyone off, but then I was like that is so unrealistic! And also Leofwen was so opposed to Lancelot and Aibhilín I thought it was unlikely she'd do the same.

I have a confession to make...**I cried when writing this**, OK? This is the chapter I agonised over the most. Please review, otherwise it was all for nothing... (sob). I also wrote a lot of it whilst watching Pearl Harbour, the scene in the middle where everything's on fire and all the people are either alive and sad or dead and covered in blood whilst floating the water. Also, the scene where Danny dies. That is so sad. That would have been another way for Leofwen to die-protecting a friend and then dying in their arms. Think of that while you read this. (I never got the end of Pearl Harbour-does Rafe just raise Danny's kid himself? I wouldn't!)

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm

**XI: War II**

_Somewhere like a scene from a memory  
There's a picture worth a thousand words  
Eluding stares from faces before me..._

Ealusaid fought hard and well, revelling in the moment where you penetrated your enemy with your sword. The moment where all of the blood was spilled. The moment when you knew you'd won. She focused every energy in her body onto that.

Then she saw Leofwen. She was covered in blood and maimed viciously, but she was still beautiful. Her wide blue eyes were still the eyes of her sister. Her eyes were full of fear, but they were still Leofwen's eyes. She would not let her die alone.

"Goddess" she whispered as she fought. "If this be your will, I will die too, if it will bring Leofwen back"

She waited. A Saxon came at her, spear up and ready.

She did not move.

_If this be your will..._

He threw the spear

_I will die too..._

And missed.

_If it will bring Leofwen back._

Ealusaid gasped. She could not bring Leofwen back. Nothing could. She had passed beyond her power and her sight. She was gone. Ealusaid threw the first dagger and killed the Saxon instantly. She then paused, and realised something.

She was so scared. There was blood everywhere and most of it her sister's. Ealusaid could hear nothing but the blood rushing into her ears and her heart pounding painfully. She stabbed and thrust the first dagger into Saxons. She never used the third dagger. It was not worth using on these scum.

Ealusaid stared at the body of her fallen sister. She heard a black hole sucking void of a scream and realised it was coming from her own throat. Her sister was lying murdered on a field of battle, and yet somehow she did not yet feel remorse. All she could feel was white-hot anger that consumed her insides and gave her power. Her scream was a growl of suppressed rage bubbling over her cup of control. She swung her sword with renewed vigour, almost as though she believed that when she killed enough Saxons, Leofwen would come back. She held onto this hope and killed viciously. When she had a spare moment in which she wouldn't be killed, she ran.

She ran as though she had wings on her feet. She ran over to protect Leofwen's body from all other forms of attack. The huge Saxon was leaving her corpse, now that she was dead, and returning to the fight. Ealusaid threw the death dagger at him. It collided with a sickening squelch in his shoulder blade. He turned around with a bellow of rage and charged at Ealusaid. She threw the third dagger. It was time for it to be used. This one landed in his heart, along with an arrow and a spear. She neatly skipped aside of his falling body and turned around. Aibhilín had her bow aloft and Guinevere's spear arm was still outstretched. She smiled faintly at them. At least they could avenge Leofwen's death together. Aibhilín and Guinevere understood the smile and returned to their positions of killing. Ealusaid

Guinevere ignored everything that she heard. She ignored Leofwen's death cry and she ignored Ealusaid's scream. She concentrated only on the terrible joy of killing and made her sword sing as she thrust and plunged it into Saxons. It was something she had to do. She could not yet think about Leofwen. Her sister. The one she had got on with better than everyone else.

It was she and Leofwen that went adventuring together. It was the two of them that always practiced their sword skills together. They were the ones who preferred swords to bows or daggers. They fought each other in play and fought beside each other in battle. She had a lifetime of memories that had now come to their premature conclusion.

Guinevere swung the sword again. A chant echoed in her mind, and she used it as a rhythm for her sword.

_Leofwen's dead, Leofwen's dead, Leofwen's dead, Leofwen's dead..._

She forced herself to stop when all the Saxon's surrounding her were dead. She twisted around and saw the man next to Leofwen's body.

Her murderer.

She did not think, she only she only acted. She pulled up a spear from the ground and threw it as hard as she could. Into that throw, she poured all of her rage, her sorrow her remorse. She poured in everything she was feeling right now.

It hit him in the place where his heart should have been. He sank to the floor and Ealusaid turned, giving her a slight smile. Guinevere returned it, but it wasn't real. Inside her heart was breaking, breaking, breaking into tiny shards of glass that would kill her from the inside.

She sank to her knees and stuck her sword into the ground, using it as a prop. She felt as though a spear had been stuck in her. She couldn't breathe or speak or move. All she did was think about the fact that her sister, her friend, her comrade and her ally was dead. She was never coming back.

She looked up just in time to see Arthur behead the Saxon general. She dug her sword into a few more Saxon's with renewed vigour, but they were fleeing the battlefield. She was glad. She wasn't in a killing Saxon's kind of mood anymore.

Aibhilín stared numbly at Leofwen's body. Already, the blood was flowing slower, and her skin was turning grey. Her face was contorted in pain and her hand had loosed hold of her sword.

Aibhilín closed her eyes and turned away, walking over to Lancelot. She couldn't bear to be near her dead friend now. Maybe if she turned away, Leofwen would be alive. It was only be a dream. But her thoughts decided to betray her.

_Leofwen isn't coming back. She's dead. She died an agonising, excruciatingly painful death. And do you know what? You could have prevented this...you saw it. You knew what was going to happen. Why didn't you stop it? It's your fault Leofwen's dead. It's all your fault. _

"It's not" she whispered so quietly it was little more than a hiss. But the words brought with them a strange relief. The tight band of pain and guilt loosened around her chest, and she found it easier to breathe.

She knelt by Lancelot and placed a hand on his head. "You utterly stupid man" she told him. "I told you not to come back" She leant down and kissed him softly. "Thank you"

He placed one hand over hers. He stared up at her. "You're bleeding"

"I'll be fine" she assured him firmly. She took his hand and helped to pull him into a sitting position.

"Where's Leofwen? She saved me" Lancelot asked.

Aibhilín looked away. Anywhere but at Leofwen's body. "She fell" she told him.

Lancelot drew Aibhilín unto his arms, and a single solitary tear dripped down Aibhilín's cheek. "She always said she'd want to die in battle" she managed to say. "She must never have realised about who she was leaving behind"

Guinevere stood by the knights. She wasn't ready to face Leofwen's body either, because that would have meant that it was true; that she was never coming back. She counted faces. Bors, Gawain, Galahad, Arthur..."Where's Tristan?" she asked.

"He's dead" Bors said, with tears shining in his craggy face. Guinevere looked to the left of her and Tristan's body was there, scarred with battle and blood.

Arthur stood a way away, staring at the sky.

"It was my life to be taken" he whispered. It was so quiet, yet it held so many emotions-grief, anger, regret. "Not this! Never this!"

Guinevere watched him. She did not know who he was talking to, but right now she needed someone to blame for Leofwen's death. She tilted her own head to the sky. "If you were going to kill Leofwen, you might as well have killed me, for I do not know how to live without my sister" she whispered angrily. "Why did she have to die? She had so many people who will miss her" Her voice grew stronger and angrier. "She was not meant to die! It can't have been her time yet" She hung her head and placed her hand over her face, fingertips resting on her forehead. "I don't understand" She needed to understand why. It all made no sense. If she kept thinking about it, trying to find meaning it would consume her.

She stared up at the knights. "Why did you all come back?" she asked them as a means of distraction and as ending her fatal curiosity. "You were and are free men"

"It's not a case of being free men" Gawain told her. "This was a case of doing what's right"

Guinevere smiled faintly. "Thank you"

"Come on. I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to"

Bors turned to Lancelot, who had come over with Aibhilín. "See you're alive then"

"Only by luck or fate"

Fate. Destiny. The wheel of life that cannot be stopped. The chances in your life that are dictated by something higher than we are ever meant to understand. This was what had killed Leofwen and Tristan. This was what Aibhilín had believed her entire life. Now, it didn't feel like truth.

"You told me that we make our own destinies" she whispered to Guinevere. "Why did Leofwen die?"

"I'll tell you when I know" Guinevere smiled faintly.

Ealusaid made her own way over. She went straight to her sisters. Her skin was stained with blood-Leofwen's. "Is she-?" Guinevere asked, holding on to a futile piece of hope.

Ealusaid nodded. "Our sister is dead"

"Sister?" That captured Galahad's attention.

"She was our half-sister" Aibhilín explained in a blank tone which was her way of trying not to break down and sob. She was now covered in blood, tattoos and tears.

"And she didn't know until this morning, because that bastard didn't tell us" Guinevere was shivering with anger. "He saw this. He knew"

"He wouldn't have let her die if he knew" Ealusaid protested. (The knights were understanding none of this)

"If he believed it was her destiny, he would have" Aibhilín said, understanding dawning on her. "If he believed that it was meant to be he wouldn't have"

"Umm-sorry to interrupt, but we're dying of curiosity here" Gawain interjected. "Who's this he you keep mentioning?"

"Dauídh-Merlin if you want. He's our father and he has the gift of foresight" Ealusaid explained without thinking how careless that was.

"Like Aibhilín?"

"He's much better than me" Aibhilín said. "And he must have let her die because the bastard thought it was her destiny" She couldn't help it. She let out a strangled sob. "And now she's dead. I hope he's happy"

Ealusaid looked away. Even though it was Dauídh who had derived her of her natural status, he was still her father and she still respected him. She noticed the Woads leave the field as silently as always. She, Guinevere and Aibhilín did not go with them. They stood together with the knights.

"Where do we go from here?" Ealusaid asked.

"I don't know"

"I do" Aibhilín's voice was stronger. "We bury Leofwen and then we mourn"

"And then what?"

"We live on and Leofwen does not" Aibhilín's voice was shaking, but she managed to say it. Her words were cold and barren, yet there was sense in them.

Ealusaid put and arm each around her two sisters. "Come on. Let us leave this place of bloodshed"

"Not without her body" Aibhilín ducked out of the hug and went over to Leofwen. She and Guinevere picked her up and gently slung her over one of the surviving horses. "Sleep well, my sister" she said quietly. She walked over to Lancelot and stood beside him, knowing that he was in need of comfort as much as she was. They walked away, hearts heavy and weary.

The battle was won, but it was a flat and empty victory.

* * *

Please review. I'm depressed...Pearl Harbour and writing emotionally empty death scenes don't really make for happiness. Make me feel loved!

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm


	12. Skeletons That Do Not Belong In A Coffin

OK, the whole idea of Leofwen and her skeletons in her closet comes from Camreyn. If you like the chapter, thank her, not me. I'm only the messenger.

**chiefhow**-There is no writing-induced hurt that writing MRC cannot cure!

**ElvenStar5**-You don't think anyone could have done it better? I'm very flattered!

**lindalee4**-The paragraph made perfect sense to me. I talk like that-much thought and no sense. I like being the first story to be dubbed a page scroller. Thank you for reviewing as always.

**Veronica**-This isn't much happier or more romantic, but the next few chapters are going to be very angsty, but I have a very long one planned just bursting with mushy romantic crap (MRC). Hope that pleases you.

**SunsetSparrow**-I do like stuff that makes me cry, and Pearl Harbour is just another film in a very long list...My friend who I saw King Arthur with went out to the bathroom in the battle scene and thought I was dying or something when she came back and I was crying.

**Camreyn**-No, it was my idea to kill Tristan. You just gave the idea about Leofwen's past, which will be slowly revealed over the next few hundred chapters...

**MonDieu666**-I don't agree! Funny, most writers are biased towards their own stories.

**BillieLiv**-Why would I heal you? It keeps you addicted to my story! (joke) ...

A **HUGE **thank you goes to BillieLiv, who sent me this truly incredible birthday present. If you want to see it, I'll email it onto you. It's really brilliant. Thank you so much (hugs BillieLiv and gives her a lot of birthday cake).

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm

**XII: Skeletons that do not belong in a Coffin**

_It hides away and will never be heard of again_

_Vair me oro van o  
Vair me oro van ee  
Vair me oru o ho  
Sad am I without thee. _

_When I'm lonely, dear white heart,  
Black the night or wild the sea,  
By love's light my foot finds  
The old pathway to thee. _

_Vair me oro van o  
Vair me oro van ee  
Vair me oru o ho  
Sad am I without thee_

_Thou'rt the music of my heart,  
Harp of joy, oh cruit mo chridh,  
Moon of guidance by night,  
Strength and light thou'rt to me. _

_Vair me oro van o  
Vair me oro van ee  
Vair me oru o ho  
Sad am I without thee_

Aibhilín finished her song. It was an old one, but Leofwen had loved it. It seemed extra appropriate now.

She laid down her rosemary garland. Rosemary stood for remembrance and loyalty, and both of those where placed on gravestones. To make it personal, she'd entwined a strand of late jasmine flowers. Jasmine was Leofwen's flower. It was sensual, strong and sharp. It was very much her. Aibhilín sank down her knees, and gracefully curved her legs so that she was sitting staring directly at Leofwen's grave. She did not say anything, she just was there.

Leofwen's was on a hill, with one ancient oak tree as the marker. On it, her sisters had yesterday carved:

_Leofwen_

_We will remember thee for as long as this oak stands_

_Sleep in peace_

They had buried Leofwen in a mixture of Woad and Christian rites. Stuck up in her grave were the three daggers; death, deceit and the eternal dance, blades into the ground. Ealusaid had freely given them up. It had just felt right. Guinevere had cried, but Ealusaid and Aibhilín had not. Ealusaid had felt that she had to stay together. She was now the eldest sister. Granted, Leofwen had only had the role for a day, but she was an excellent friend, and would have been a good sister. Ealusaid felt that she couldn't fill her place.

As for Aibhilín...she wasn't read to cry. All there was inside of her was an empty gaping void that she somehow knew tears wouldn't fill. And also, there was dread. Pure, unexplainable dread. She couldn't understand it, but she knew that something was going to happen. Something bad. Part of her wanted to dismiss it as the aftermath from Leofwen's premature death, and the whole battle. It unnerved the mind in strange and complex ways.

The breeze was strong, and Aibhilín's hair was being whipped about her face angrily. She tried and failed to tuck it behind her ears, so she just let the wind do its work. The autumn was falling, and surrounding the grave were leaves of many infinite hues-red, yellow, russet, gold. They were a fitting ornament for a grave.

Another strand of Aibhilín's hair whipped in front of her face, followed by another clump of jet-black hair. She had to spend a second just getting it off of her face, when a tiny pressure could be felt in her lap. She held her hair back with one hand and stuffed it down the back of her dress before looking. It was a tiny scrap of bark, peeling of one of the trees that Aibhilín knew grew near the Woad encampment. Her blood ran cold. She had not been back to the camp since Leofwen had died, though she had a shrewd idea what had happened...she gave a sharp intake of breath. The kiss. Oh, Goddess how stupid was she? She had kissed Lancelot in front of her people. She knew that that kiss would raise controversy. Her heart was gripped in a claw of ice, and she froze.

"You haven't even opened the note yet"

Aibhilín raised her head sharply. In front of her was Rossa. His usually merry eyes were grave and red-rimmed.

"What are you doing here?" Aibhilín asked, though not unkindly.

"Dauídh told me that Leofwen was buried here, and they asked me to bring this note along to you"

Aibhilín fingered the bark nervously. She unfolded it with trembling fingers and deciphered the runes.

_Meet me by Leofwen's grave. We must talk_

It was unsigned.

"Who gave this to you?" she asked Rossa.

Rossa shrugged. "I don't know" He moved away from Aibhilín and sat by Leofwen's grave. Aibhilín left silently and left him to his pain. She cast one little glance back, peering through the dishevelled mass of her hair. Looking at Rossa, a sudden though came into her mind, fully-formed.

Rossa has loved Leofwen.

Aibhilín, who mainly because of her gift had had very few surprises in her life, had had too many recently. She stared for a second, and then another thought popped into her mind, this time in the form of a vision.

Someone else knew the secret. If Rossa obviously was not scared of showing open affection for Leofwen near Aibhilín, than it was someone close to Aibhilín who knew. And Aibhilín had a good idea who knew...

That evening, as they were heading into the hall of the Round Table, Aibhilín slipped in between people and stood beside Ealusaid. "You knew?"

"I knew what?"

"Leofwen and Rossa" Aibhilín whispered. Her voice was not angry, just sad.

Ealusaid nodded. "Leofwen told me a while ago. She was going to tell you two, but you left on a scouting mission the next morning"

"That was why she wanted to obey Dauídh's order" Aibhilín understood. "The one about me and Lancelot. She needed to stay in favour with Dauídh if she was going to marry him"

"Leofwen had a whole life that we didn't know about" Ealusaid told her. "She had secrets...like we all have. I just wish we knew more of them"

There was a pause.

"I miss her too" Aibhilín whispered in a slightly choked up voice.

"I know" Ealusaid nodded. She slipped her hand into Aibhilín's and her fingers made contact with the barkleaf note.

"What's this?" she asked. She gently pulled it out of Aibhilín's hand, and speedily deciphered the runes.

"Do you know who sent this?"

"No"

"Are you going?"

"Yes"

"Then I'm coming with you" she said determinedly.

"You're not"

"I am"

"You're not"

"I am" Guinevere sat down just in time to hear that last argument.

"This is really annoying me, did anyone think of that?" Guinevere put in from her position next to them. "Anyway what are you two talking about?"

"Aibhilín's just had an anonymous note from someone and she's actually going to go and meet them alone"

"Look, I have a shrewd idea who sent the note and believe me, if it's who I think it is, you don't want to be there" Aibhilín told her.

"What if you're wrong?" Ealusaid asked her in a tone unlike her usual calm. "What if it's someone else? I will not lose another sister!" The words spurted out angrily from her mouth, and she regretted them almost instantly when she saw the look on Aibhilín's face.

"Calm down" Guinevere advised. "I have an idea. We will go"-

"No!" Aibhilín protested.

"-but we'll stay in the shadows. That way, they won't know that we're there"

Aibhilín nodded reluctantly. "If you must. We will meet in the outer fortress at midnight, and then we will go"

They did not raise the subject again. The sisters ate and jested with the knights as usual, but Aibhilín left earlier than usual that night. She went up to her room and lay down on the bed. She was getting strangely used to it. She was getting used to a lot of strange things.

Like losing her sister. She had come to a conclusion. The reason she hadn't yet cried was because she was past the stage of needless tears and wails of desolation. She was accepting and understanding what had happened on some level, and she didn't need to weep or wail about it. What she didn't realise was that surrounding herself was a wall of ice, and you have to melt your own path through to reach the real Aibhilín.

Her door opened, and Lancelot entered. His face was concerned.

"Are you alright?" he asked, hating himself for the inadequacy of his words.

"Just tired" Aibhilín said, even though that was not the truth. "Ealusaid's angry with me"

"Why?"

"I'm leaving to go back to my people. Just for tonight" she assured him. "I need to tie up some loose ends"

Lancelot lay down beside her and kissed her. "Just make sure you do come back"

"I will" Aibhilín promised. She lay into him and tried to gather a fraction of warmth and comfort from him. They lay together, perfectly entwined and perfectly balanced. When the dusk had fully fallen, she gently struggled upright. She had made up her mind. She would go now, before Ealusaid and Guinevere would ever think about leaving. That way, they wouldn't get caught up in this.

"Must you go?" Lancelot asked her, oblivious to what she had been scheming.

"I must" She kissed him, a slow and lasting kiss. She made for the door, and just before she left she turned back. "I'll come back. I promise"

Aibhilín walked through the forest, quickly and silently. The note was not specific, but she knew that someone was following her. Her hand closed over the sword she had brought for safe keeping.

"Show your face" she said, not very loudly but in the still wood it echoed a thousand times and seemed to fill it with noise.

A rustle of leaves behind her made her turn around. There stood the person she hated most of all.

"Taidhg" she said, trying and failing to keep the note of disgust out of her voice.

"I see you got my message, my lady" he said. Taidhg's twisted idea of chivalry make Aibhilín want to vomit. He was only about as tall as her, with short bristly hair and brown eyes. To many women he seemed attractive, for Aibhilín could not wonder how else so many women crawled into his bed. Aibhilín knew that to him she was just another conquest, for she had eluded every attempt he had made at seduction. She despised him with every breath she took.

"Don't touch me" Aibhilín snapped as he made to grab her arm. "I'm not marrying you. My father will not allow it" She was hoping that Taidhg did not know what Dauidh thought about her marriage

"My father and your father say different" Taidhg was circling her now, and Aibhilín turned to make sure that she was always facing him.

"Me and my sisters will inherit the tribe someday. When that day occurs I will exile you or cut your throat" She spat out the words with relish.

Taidhg smiled. "Did you not know, my lady that one clause of our marriage agreement was that we should wed before my twentieth year alive?"

"I did" Aibhilín lied. She had never heard that before.

"Then you will know that this is my nineteenth year. We shall marry before you inherit the tribe" he informed her.

Aibhilín looked straight at him. "I will never marry you, if it means slitting my own throat"

He laughed. It was a cruel sound. "Don't be like that, my lady. This is a powerful binding"

"That's what is it. A binding. To man I don't love, nor even respect" Aibhilín told him.

His face clouded and without warning his hand whipped up and clasped about her throat. Aibhilín brought her knee up hard and jammed it straight into his crotch. He bellowed and released his grip on her throat. Seizing her chance, Aibhilín ran for the woods, knowing that when she was far enough in Taidhg would never be able to find her. She ran quickly and lightly, as if all her hopes depended on her reaching the wood. Which they did.

Suddenly, she was thrown to the floor. A clammy hand was about her ankle and it had holding on tightly. Aibhilín started to crawl away, across the foliage littering the woodland floor, kicking whatever part of Taidhg her foot could find. She loathed herself for touching his skin, but hatred gave her kicks power. She kicked out furiously, but he seized her other leg, and held it securely. He struggled up and flipped her over, so that suddenly she was staring at the night sky. She reacted quickly, and pulled out her sword. She did not usually fight with a sword, but it was as good a weapon as any. She twisted around painfully and managed to stab Taidhg's hand. He dropped her foot, and she kicked his other hand as quickly as she could. With both feet free, she struggled to her feet and held her sword at arms length, aiming for his throat.

"I suppose I could cut your throat now..." she mused.

"You could not" Taidhg gasped, even though he was sweating like a slug. "If you did that you'd be banished from the tribe forever"

Aibhilín smiled. "Marry a sluggard, or exile. I think I prefer exile" she flicked the sword away from his throat, leaving only a small cut on his throat. She moved away. "You try anything and I'll swing the sword into your throat"

She turned away. "A deal" Taidhg called out.

"No deal" she said, still walking away.

A sword flew by and landed in a tree trunk in front of her. She turned around. Taidhg's face was serious.

"A sword fight" he challenged her. "If you win, you walk away. If I win, you marry me"

"No deal" Aibhilín repeated.

A dagger sailed by her head. If it had been an inch lower, it would have been in her brain.

"Fight, or die" Taidhg threatened her.

Aibhilín raised one eyebrow in an expression of boredom. Internally, she was worried. Taidhg was not as good a fighter as her, but the forest was dark and treacherous and the sword was not her best weapon. She knew that if she did not marry him, Taidhg would probably get the blame, and lose any chance of leading the tribe. She was in a dangerous volatile situation and she knew it. She could not make a run for it without getting a dagger in her. She had only one option. She pulled his sword out of the tree and threw it to him. She held her own sword ready.

He stabbed towards her side and she easily deflected it. She realised that he would not try to draw blood, but it was hard to judge, especially in the dark. There was a good chance that this could turn very ugly.

She countered his moves, but they were skilful. Taidhg was using his own brutish strength to his advantage, and her sword arm was tingling from the shockwaves travelling down the metal of her sword. She was tiring, but she fought back viciously and soon was winning back. All that fuelled her was hatred and love.

Taidhg knew that the fight might soon go ill for him, and he started to look for a way out. He spied a small nettle bush behind Aibhilín. He smiled and pushed Aibhilín into it. She gave a small cry of surprise, and in the moment of uncertainty Taidhg grabbed her sword arm. Carefully, so as not to get slashed by the blade, he threw her into the clearing.

Not for the first time that night, Aibhilín found herself on her back. There was a sword at her throat, and it was only the sword's cold metal kiss that stopped her from fainting.

Taidhg's voice drifted into hr realm between a conscious state and a sleep.

"You lose" he told her triumphantly. "You are mine"

* * *

By the way, the song at the beginning is called an Eriskay Love Lilt, and I had to sing it twice in my singing class; once in English and once in only Gaelic! I couldn't pronounce any of it, and its quiet fast, so we all got very out of time and my teacher got cross. Just a little random note.

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm


	13. A Wedding of Despair

**band-geek-**Thank you so much! I find battle scenes hard to write, but apparently I'm doing a good job. Thank you for helping my (over-inflated) ego!

**chiefhow**-Your review made me laugh! Of course Taidhg must die!

**lindalee4**-When I was little, I was so scared of the Beauty and the Beast! I used to hide behind the sofa! Homework sucks, doesn't it? I'm meant to be doing mine, but I can't be bothered right now...

**Camreyn**-She might do worse than kick his arse. I was thinking something involving a heated poker, five blunt stones and his sensitive parts...

**ElvenStar5**-Have you considered anger management? (joke). Please don't hurt me...

**Veronica**-It's in the pipeline" Thanks for reviewing!

**BillieLiv**-What would make you think I wouldn't like it? Thanks for the review!

I'm sorry but this is the penultimate chapter...of Aibhilín's story. Got you worried there, didn't I? Nope, this story is not ending anytime soon. Please review and I'll write more...

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm

**X111: A Wedding of Despair**

_Now the Miracle and the Sleeper know that the third is love_

"You cheated" Aibhilín told him.

He leaned in closer to her. "Prove it"

Aibhilín struggled away, onto her feet. Taidhg clutched at her arm with his clammy hand. Aibhilín brought her other hand down sharply onto his arm. "You cannot have me" she told him.

She pulled back, so that she was behind him. She then raised the dagger and brought the hilt down on the back of his head. It stunned him instantly and he fell. Aibhilín did not waste her moment. She ran quickly and silently into the woods, running like she didn't have a damned placed to go. Which was true. She could not go back to the fort, for no matter what she did she knew that Woads were excellent trackers. They would find her and then possibly attack the fort. She would have no way out if that happened, and she did not want to wish a bunch of very angry Woads on Arthur's doorstep. No, there had to be somewhere she could go. Somewhere secluded and somewhere private.

Something grabbed her hand as she went past. Aibhilín was whirled around and ended up on her back again.

"This has got to stop" she murmured to herself as she felt the salty metallic tang of blood in her mouth. A hand extended and pulled her onto her feet.

"Aibhilín" Ealusaid began in a tone which Aibhilín knew was not good. "I thought we agreed to go together"

"No, you agreed" Aibhilín told her. "I said if you must. I never said I would be there"

Guinevere took her arm. "So, who is it?"

Aibhilín spat a little blood out of her mouth. "Taidhg"

"What?"

"He's decided to plan a wedding ceremony. For us"

"What?" Guinevere repeated.

"And I think I'm practically a prisoner until then"

"Now you see why we wanted to come with you?" Ealusaid protested.

"It wouldn't have done any good" Aibhilín informed her. "He seems really determined to do this. I think he wants to lead the tribe"

"No, he doesn't" Taidhg's father stepped forwards. Aibhilín silently cursed herself for not checking the woods for other people. She was obviously letting soft living get to her.

"You want it" Ealusaid breathed as she started to understand.

"You evil bastard" Guinevere cursed him. Next to her, Ealusaid slipped away and behind Bhriain. Aibhilín did not let a flicker of her eyes betray her.

Bhriain bent down, just as the dagger left Ealusaid's hand. She tried to stop herself, but all her hands closed around was empty air. The dagger sailed through the air, making a loud sound as it glided into a leafy bush. Bhriain turned towards her, and she braced herself for a battle, but she knew she would be crushed. Bhrain was a full-grown man with many years of battle experience. He advanced on her, with Aibhilín and Guinevere watched anxiously.

It was then that Aibhilín did a very brave thing. She turned to Guinevere.

"Tell him I love him" she whispered to Guinevere. Before she could fully comprehend what had taken place, Aibhilín had launched herself at Bhriain's back.

"Go!" she yelled at them. "Go!" Bhriain reached around for Aibhilín and easily pulled her away. With a quick movement Aibhilín pulled an arrow out of her quiver and stabbed him in the neck. Bhriain threw her on the floor. Aibhilín squirmed and fought with her best moves, but she was tired and outmanoeuvred. She looked for the last time at her sisters. Her eyes asked them what her mouth could not. With a last agonised glance at her sister, Ealusaid grabbed Guinevere's hand. They melted into the forest like smoke on a breeze.

Aibhilín lay on the floor. She was very well acquainted with the stars in the sky by now. She turned her gaze to Bhriain. "You wouldn't kill me" she told him boldly. "You need me"

"I do" Bhriain admitted. "So you will stay of your own free will"

"No, I will leave of my own free will" Aibhilín told him. She pressed a hand to her face, which was bleeding.

"You will stay"

"Why?" Aibhilín asked as she was on the brink of fainting.

Bhriain told her. At once Aibhilín was awake, and for a second she was speechless. "You can't" she whispered as her voice broke.

"I can and I will" Bhriain informed her. "So prepare for a wedding, Dauídh's daughter, for I promise you that you cannot get out of this"

"I will find my father and make him stop you"

He threw her a pendant. Aibhilín recognised the design immediately. It never left Dauídh's throat. The chunk of quartz at the end was said to induce visions and Imbas. "He's dead" Bhriain said in a tone of undisguised glee. "'Twas the news of Leofwen's death that stopped him" He looked at her directly "So, Aibhilín, daughter of Dauídh, you are truly alone in this world"

He left, leaving Aibhilín with a bloody face and an aching heart. She pressed the pendant to her forehead and sobbed.

Guinevere grabbed Arthur; Ealusaid dragged Lancelot into the Round Table room which was thankfully empty.

"Aibhilín's in trouble" Ealusaid dived right in. "Very big trouble"

"The man that she was promised to has taken her back. He's holding her prisoner in the forest"

"What?" Lancelot's eyes immediately turned grave and worried.

"She cannot escape herself, and I don't think we can get in"

"How can you be so calm?" Lancelot asked Ealusaid who had recounted this with a straight and serene face.

"I'm not" Ealusaid told him. "She's my younger sister. I have an obligation to save her"

"I'm talking about more than duty!"

"So am I! She's only been my sister for a few days! She's my friend and I want to help her" Ealusaid thought of the words she had uttered yesterday. 'I will not lose another sister'.

"It's not going to be easy" Guinevere told them. "Bhriain has practically got control of the tribe. If we take Aibhilín you could have a war on your hands"

"So, it's hopeless, is that what you're saying?" Lancelot said despairingly.

"No" Ealusaid sighed. "I'm saying that we're going to need a very good plan"

A sudden sound, like a hammer on wood sounded on the wall.

"That sounded like-"

"An arrow" Guinevere suddenly and irrationally smiled. She ran out of the room and onto the battlement. She stood on the battlement and stared out into the wood. Ealusaid walked along the battlement, her eyes on the fort. She reached up and pulled an arrow out of the wooden window. It had a piece of barkcloth tied around it.

"Aibhilín" she and Guinevere both said at the same time.

"In writing?" Arthur asked.

"In person" Guinevere pointed. On the edge of the forest surrounding the fort, a small figure was holding up a bow. Lancelot stared at her, his eyes memorising every inch of her.

Ealusaid scanned the note. "She says that she is trapped in the forest. She reckons that the wedding will take place soon. She does not want us to go into the forest, because..." Ealusaid's voice trailed off. "her father-in-law has put a price on our heads. If we go back, we will be slaughtered. Dauídh is dead. He cannot help us. Stay there. I will survive" Ealusaid's voice was flat and despairing.

They all waited while the implications of the letter sank in.

"So Aibhilín will be left to a living death?"

Lancelot lay against the wall and banged his head against it. It hurt but that was good. It was good to feel physical pain and not just heartache.

Aibhilín was still standing there, her bow raised. She wondered whether they could see her tears.

"Aibhilín will not be left to any kind of death" Arthur said slowly. "Do you think there is any chance of finding her in the forest?" he asked Guinevere.

Guinevere shook her head. "You don't see Woads. They see you. You would all be slaughtered before you reached anywhere near her. It's our land and we know every inch of it. They could see you a hundred feet away"

Everyone was reduced to silence.

"Well, we can't just do nothing!" Anger was rising in Lancelot's voice.

Ealusaid smartly slapped him. "Shut up or I'll give you more than that" she snarled. "We're all trying to help Aibhilín, but if you don't shut your mouth I will start to get out my daggers and do some strategic poking"

From the forest, Aibhilín smiled. Ealusaid had a firm hand, as she knew herself. She could imagine the threats that were coming out of her mouth. Leofwen had been good at them, but Ealusaid was eloquent too.

Guinevere was smiling slightly, standing into Arthur a little. She was sad and grieving, but at least she still had one sister who would not change.

"Look" Ealusaid began in her normal voice. "We all want Aibhilín back but there is nothing we can do now"

Guinevere stared directly at Lancelot. "Do not worry" she told him. "Aibhilín is resourceful. She will not resign herself to this life. She will have a plan"

"But how will we get a letter to her?" Arthur worried. "Could one of you shoot an arrow to her?"

Guinevere looked at Ealusaid. "I could" she began. "but I do not want to risk it. I am not as good an archer as Aibhilín. I would worry about hitting her"

There was a pause as they thought.

"I have an idea" Ealusaid said slowly. "Would Tristan let us borrow his hawk?"

Aibhilín stood as some stupid woman twittered around her, decorating her with blue paint. This time though, the symbols weren't of power, but of love and fidelity. She was wearing her traditional leather outfit and carrying her bow and quiver. It was customary for the couple to wear battle gear, to swear faithfulness to each other in battle and board. Aibhilín anointed herself with a few carefully chosen symbols as well; symbols of survival and power. She etched them permanently onto her skin with the tip of a dagger. Anyone who tried to stop her got a jab with the wickedly sharp stiletto.

Aibhilín was never alone that day. All day she was tugged and pulled about like a piece of baggage rather than a person. That makes sense, she mused to herself. All they need is my bloodline.

She was pushed through a wedding ceremony, and all she felt was the floating feeling that she had got before, when she was sitting with the knights. The day before Leofwen died. Was it the day before Dauídh died too? If that was true, then tomorrow someone would die. She prayed to every god she had ever heard of and several that she hadn't that it was Taidhg, Bhriain or both, and it was at her hand. She imagined herself, knife in hand, probably castrating the both of them before slitting their throats as slowly and painfully as possible. It was that surge of hatred that kept her alive throughout the ceremony. When Taidhg's slimy hand was put in hers, the hatred and revulsion almost made her vomit. She responded by pouring all of her strength into her hand, and then using it to crush Taidhg's. He winced slightly.

The people there did not seem to think that there was anything unusual about a bride being married whilst covered in blood. Aibhilín herself could not move because of the people either side of her. If she moved then she would be pressed back into her position.

_I'm sorry, Lancelot_ she thought to herself. _I'm sorry for being arrogant and foolish, and now we are both paying for it. I'm sorry._

She barely even noticed when she was led away into a clearing. The ground was mossy and the air was thick with fragrant flowers surrounding the faery ring. She was glad that finally she would be alone.

Suddenly, she saw Taidhg next to her. He was fiddling with his leather fastenings...oh my god. Aibhilín cursed herself for being so naïve. As soon as he turned away, she suddenly whipped out her dagger and as he turned, she brought the hilt down on his head, right on the bump she had given him last time.

She had no idea what would happen when she woke up, but she didn't care. She moved away and settled against a huge beech tree. She put her head against it, and listened to the sound of her heart shattering. Her heart filled with despair. The ball of rage in her throat rose up and threatened to choke her, but suddenly it dissipated into pure despondency. She turned over and pressed her face into the moss. She sobbed quietly yet the shards of her heart were pressed into her chest and ripping long gashes in her chest that wept crystal tears and droplets of blood, for he sisters, her lover, and for her as well.

Thus passed Aibhilín's wedding night.

* * *

Another angsty chapter...sorry, recently I've not been up to writing MRC. The next chapter however, is the most romantic thing ever, as well as Part II of the story.

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm


	14. The Dance of Eternity

Sorry for the lack in updates. I've been trying to make this chapter superlative, and it's taken a while. I hope you enjoy it.

**Veronica**-I'm glad! Sorry it's taken so long to update…

**chiefhow**-Be happy! Big MRC chapter below. Taidhg should and will die. I promise

**lindalee4**-You're comparing me to Satan? Cool…man, I'm Marilyn Manson (shudder). Yes, someone will be castrated, but I can't say anymore just now…Ealusaid is going to develop a lot more after Leofwen's death. She needs to become the eldest sister, which she's been doing unconsciously until now. P.S Does Walt Disney realise he is responsible for many childhood phobias?

**the original coda**-Yeah, I really like Dreamtheater mainly because of the lyrics. You have the best job ever, do you realise that? I would love to spend all day working with music…

**Camreyn**-For once, someone gave a longer review than you? Quick, nurse the screens! I would like to poke Lancelot, but only so I could kiss him better (Sorry, I'm ill and I've just written 2,000 words of MRC. Forgive me…)

**band-geek**-Oh yeah, I like giving my characters grief, but only so I can get them out of it. Sorry this update was slow in coming.

**Katie Moore**-I'm writing another book, The 1001 Ways to Kill Taidhg with as much Blood and Gore as Possible. Would you like to read it?

**MonDieu666**-Of course! I firmly believe that if one hundred writers take one idea, they can come up with one hundred different stories. I'm loving A New Way of Life by the way

**BillieLiv**-Ahh, thank you! Seriously, don't take any crap from ignorant people (naming no names coughStarboxcough). You are a great writer and anyone with a brain cell can see that.

A little point I should have made clearer…Camreyn asked me how Bhriain got control over the Woads so easily. It's all worked into this chapter. Hope that clears it up for everyone.

Another little note from me…and this time it's a sorry.

OK?

Here goes

**I'm really, really sorry.** For a lot of things, but here's the most pressing one. I'm a Wiccan, and at Mabon, the autumnal equinox, we give thanks for all of our blessings. One of mine is you guys who review my stories even though their not always the best, or well punctuated etc. etc. The point is, you guys mean a lot to me. Every review makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside (or as close as my black, shrivelled heart can get to warm and fuzzy. I'm sorry (again) I digress). My last chapters haven't been my best work, and I think that you are picking up on that. So I'm going to try and work really hard to make Seonaid's story top quality. OK? I just want to let you know that I really am sorry for the stuff I make you read.

Am I forgiven?

OK, ego now suitably deflated, onto the story. It's very symbolic and stuff, so bear with me, because I can write more battle and angst scenes in the second part, as well as MRC. Onto the story…

**XIV: The Dance of Eternity**

_Love is the Dance of Eternity _

A hawk hovered over the forest, almost lazily. They were by no means an uncommon sight in the forest, but this was special. It was seeking something…or someone.

Aibhilín lay against a tree. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but she wasn't too worried about that. What she was worried about was the fact that something was happening to her that she couldn't stop. She willed her head to stop spinning and herself to relax. She was sure that something was happening to her, but the whole thing was spinning around her head. She felt as though all control she had had was now gone.

A sudden bird call broke through the silence of the woods. Aibhilín jumped a little, and turned her face to the sun. The hawk hovered, almost preserved in the air. It dived and Aibhilín's body tensed instinctively. However, it landed easily and gracefully near to her. Aibhilín opened her hand cautiously, a little worried about the sharp talons and wickedly curved beak, but it landed gently in her palm. She stroked the chestnut brown and reddish plumage gently, her finger coming to rest on a rough brush of parchment. She removed it with sensitive fingers from its twine binding. She smiled as she spelled out the runes of her own name. She tilted her airy face to the still pale sky.

"Thank you" she whispered into the air. She brought her head back, but even that small action made her head spin. She forced herself to wait and be patient, but eventually just concentrated on the note, despite the waves of pain that rolled across her head.

_Aibhilín_ it began

_Can you wait? If you can survive until the night of the new moon, meet us on the edge of the forest. We will save you. _

It was unsigned, but Aibhilín knew who it was from. She curled her hands about her stomach. "Thank you" she said again, but she managed to allow so much gratefulness seep into the words, they were drowning themselves in her mouth. She lay back, feeling faint and tired. She closed her eyes and slept lightly and fitfully, trying to forget the hell-hole of a life she was stuck in. Thank goodness there was some light left though. She gave the hawk one small stroke of its glossy plumage and then, using a stick, etched a single rune onto the back of the barkleaf parchment. Carefully tying it around the hawk's sinewy leg, she watched it fly away, leaving her with a precious gift; hope.

Aibhilín survived by leaving the camp each morning and only returning in the evening to make sure that Bhriain didn't come looking for her. She had harboured a faint hope that some of the Woads might still be loyal to her and Dauídh but it quickly died. Many of the Woads had tired of Dauídh's pacifism and reliance on spiritual quests to guide the tribe. Bhriain, with his belief of plain fighting and ruling with the head over the heart, had seemed very seductive to many of the Woads. There was no-one left here who could help her. Every night she left her martial bed and went into the woods, seeking solace, to remember that bit of hope, and clutch at it with both hands.

As it happened, she never made it to the edge of the forest on the night of the new moon. She snuck out, as usual and went to her usual clearing. She was exhausted, and had to make herself lean against her oak before she fainted. She closed her eyes, to avert the hammers of pain in her head and felt a hand on her shoulder. She reacted as she would have done normally in the situation, which was jump up, draw a sword or bow and confront the intruders. As it was, she jumped up and was hit by a sudden stabbing pain to her head and a clenching hand at her stomach. If these people were unfriendly, she would be dead by now. As it was, a nearly identical face to hers could be seen, as well as a similar, yet fairer one with grey eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Aibhilín asked. She was grateful, so grateful to see her sisters and know that they were there, but her terror and surprise won over those emotions. "Bhriain will kill you!"

"I know. So we're not staying" Ealusaid informed her. Aibhilín looked haggard and worn, her skin even paler against her tumbling waterfall of her raven hair. She was wearing a strangely loose tunic that drowned her and made her frailness even more apparent, but she was still Aibhilín. She was alive and she was going to survive if Ealusaid had anything to do with it. Ealusaid helped her up, and she was merely bones and little else.

"Are you ill?" Guinevere asked her older sister concernedly.

"How long have I been here?" Aibhilín asked, avoiding the question which only added to Ealusaid's worry.

"Not yet a month. I am truly sorry that we took so long, but we were worried. We could not risk open warfare"

Aibhilín nodded. "I know. I am grateful just for knowing that I will be leaving this place soon"

Aibhilín's hope was a welcome change from her previous despair. Elated, Ealusaid hugged Aibhilín deeply. Her eyes widened a little in surprise. "Is that what I think it is?" she asked.

Aibhilín smiled and nodded.

"And…who's?" Guinevere asked, trying to use tact (which was a bit of a novelty for her).

"Who do you think?" Aibhilín asked her.

Guinevere embraced her sister, and Aibhilín embraced her back. Ealusaid broke it up though.

"We must move. There will be a lot of trouble when you are discovered missing"

Aibhilín nodded and allowed her sisters to escort and walk with her through the forest.

He saw her coming. She was beautiful, radiant even. Something had changed about her…Lancelot could see that the woman he loved was different, but she was nonetheless Aibhilín. Her green eyes glittered and sparkled with a faint flash of the incredible, powerful woman he had fallen in love with.

Aibhilín smiled at him, a slip of a smile, but a true smile. She turned to her sisters. "You had a very good plan. You thought of everything"

"Oh, he came by himself. Even Ealusaid's threats of pointed things and sensitive objects wouldn't have kept him away." Guinevere replied.

Aibhilín smiled. Ealusaid appeared to be channelling Leofwen's spirit. She walked over, ending up in a run towards her lover. She hugged him tightly, and her greatest secret was revealed. The loose tunic concealed a secret, and as she hugged him, he could feel it.

"You're pregnant?" he asked incredulously.

Aibhilín's hand immediately went to the small lump that contained her growing child. She studied his face intently, and searched for a sign of emotion besides surprise.

Ealusaid also watched. As the eldest sister, she felt that all the burdens on her sisters' shoulders also fell on her shoulders. She knew that they loved each other, but sometimes she wondered if love was enough. After all, Rossa had loved Leofwen, and that was not enough to save her. All she did was hope and pray.

Lancelot's face held a clear question. After all, Aibhilín had been married to another man. He hated himself for doubting her, but he had to wonder. Aibhilín saw his face and she leaned into him.

"I would have died before I let Taidhg touch me. You know that" she whispered.

She kissed him, knowing that her fate would be decided with that kiss. Luckily for her, Lancelot returned that kiss with as much fire as she gave it, and with as much fire as created life within Aibhilín.

She knew that she was blessed, for at that moment she understood everything about life. She could feel the balance between love and hate, peace and war, life and death. She could feel the deep ties to the earth and to the sky strengthen. She was power and life itself, radiating outwards to shower everyone else in her light.

_Death, deceit and love. Death, deceit and love. Death, deceit and love. Death, deceit and love. Death, deceit and love…. _

Death, deceit and love. The three dances that determined fate. Those three words revolved around Aibhilín's head. They had all come full circle. The ouroboros. The snake that bites its own tail to keep the cyclical nature of life moving.

Aibhilín pulled away and turned to her sisters. "Have we got a plan? When dawn comes up, I have to be away from here"

"What would happen if you stayed in the fort?" Guinevere suggested. "Everyone there would not betray you"

"It's too risky. I could never forgive myself for bringing war upon Arthur. He's got enough to deal with"

"Where then?" Ealusaid said slightly despairingly. She did her best to conceal it, but the people who had known her all of their lives understood what she meant. "Where is there that is far away enough?"

There was a pause as everyone there thought.

"How do you feel about Sarmatia?" Lancelot asked Aibhilín.

"Sarmatia!" Guinevere said.

"Well, you wanted far away…" Aibhilín said with a hint of a smile curling about her lips.

Aibhilín smiled. "You've waited fifteen years to go there, I think I can cope with that"

Aibhilín mounted the horse, with Lancelot just behind her. She let one hand extend out to her sisters.

"I'll be back" she told them. "This was the land I was born in. I cannot leave it for too long"

Her fingertips brushed against Ealusaid and Guinevere's palms. They said nothing else, but they were all together. Something was powerful and it was surrounding the sisters. The last of Dauídh's daughters, the last of the traditional Woads and the last of the truly powerful women. The women who were independent, could defend themselves and never needed men. Except…the ones who they fell in love with. They could defend themselves from all manner of weapons, pike, spear, sword, but the arrow that flew through the air could plant a seed in a heart. This was what made them great warriors; the fact that they could also love and heal. That was what put them on the line between the Romans and the Woads, and elevated them higher than either sect.

She looked at her two surviving sisters. So much had changed. Ealusaid's face was more compassionate, if possible, even more loving. She had managed to become the truest Woad of all and yet still live and fight alongside Sarmatian knights. She was open, non-judgemental and still the one of two of the best older sisters Aibhilín had ever had. For eighteen years, she had been an older sister herself, and as Guinevere had pointed out to her before, she had made a poor job of it. She was glad that she had Ealusaid, as a role model, a security blanket and a friend.

Guinevere had changed the most. She had gone from dependant baby to defiant maiden to a woman in love. She had not always been the easiest to live with, but Aibhilín always loved her. She had always been her sister, and she was now the person whom Aibhilín could truly depend on. She had always and would always be there for Aibhilín. Right now, she hated watching her sister and her unborn niece or nephew ride away from her, but she knew in her heart that this was right.

The biggest change of all was that Leofwen was gone. She had died saving Lancelot's body and Aibhilín's heart. She adored her sister, and even now, she knew that she was watching over them. Maybe her spirit would find a new home inside Aibhilín's child.

And of course, she had changed. She had loved and lost and lived again. She was now in the most beautiful and incredible stage of a woman's life. He was with the man she loved and she was with child. There are no words to sum that up.

Without knowing it, her gift of Imbas fire left her that day. She did not need it, and one day, her child would. It was freedom from the visions that had plagued her for eighteen years. This whole time was utter freedom for her. Freedom from tyranny, freedom from control, freedom from every negative thing in her life. She felt this inside her and it only added to her happiness

Aibhilín let herself be wrapped in Lancelot's arms, as the jolting motion of the horse carried her from one destiny to another.

"Wherever you go, I go" she whispered. She had never thought it was possible to go from the most miserable you have ever been to a state of exquisite bliss. She held onto the moment, and took it with her. She was finally leaving the blackness of the night and stepping into the dawn of another day.

**Aibhilín's story ends here. **

Finally! An MRC chapter! The end of the first part! This calls for a celebration (pulls out a carton of ice cream). A sundae for everyone who has reviewed The Sword and The Bow! Esp. Camreyn, who has reviewed every chapter so far! Sorry again, I've had a crap day, and am inclined to get hyper. It's my way of coping (sniff). Ego now re-inflated! Hurray!

I'm aware that the dates don't actually add up from the kid's conception to Aibhilín actually showing, but hey? It's medieval times. And, if anyone DARES to complain, especially if you were one of the people complaining about the absence of MRC, I will simply stop writing MRC…empty threat, I couldn't stop writing MRC for all the world.

Seonaid's story will take longer to update. I'm pushy it back to every three or four days because I'm so busy. Sorry!

Please review and pull me out of depression and illness! (If that won't motivate you, I don't know what will! (Sorry for my really bad humour. Please don't hurt me…)

A/N. Right, as you can see I've deleted the beginning chapters of Seonaid's story. It's only because in my own critical opinion, it sucked. I hated the plot and that's why I haven't updated in over a month. I'm incredibly sorry for all of the bother. So, the Sword and the Bow ends here, and I may write a prequel to it all, because the main thing I hated about Seonaid's story was that there was no Leofwen. So, I will keep writing, but fir the last two months I've started an original novel called Belladonna, and it currently stands at 53,000 words! I have not abandoned , but it will be tricky for me to update. Anyway, KA comes out in England tomorrow, so hell, I'll actually be able to write the actual dialogue. Hehehehe...


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